Happy Anniversary!
by bythepalmtrees
Summary: The anniversary of their shipwreck brings sadness to the castaways, but Gilligan comes up with a plan that will turn the day into one of joyous celebration! (All Characters – NO PAIRING)
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: This tale was written as a little gift from the heart. I wanted to add to the stockpile of the many well wishes and congratulations being given to celebrate the 50**__**th**__** anniversary of the debut of what I fondly feel is one of the greatest TV shows in history – Gilligan's Island! It was my intention to mirror the lighthearted and comical nature of the characters and the show, as best possible with limited writing skills. I'm sure I have not captured everything exactly right, so please remember that, as with any gift, it's the thought that counts!**_

CHAPTER 1 – ANOTHER YEAR

Every one of the castaways knew what day it was, yet no one wanted to speak of it. Not one of them had the heart to face the fact that yet another year had passed, and they remained stranded, there on that uncharted desert isle. They had been there for such a long, long time…

They had learned to manage well over the years and, for the most part, their spirits remained high, and hopeful of a future rescue. Individually, they each tried to appreciate what they could pinpoint to be positive aspects of their isolated home, despite their longing for a return to their former lives. The Professor missed the interactions with his colleagues and students, and little things about civilization, like the hustle and bustle at the reference desk at the library on a Saturday night. Yet their current location and status afforded him a plentiful source of botanical specimens to catalog and study, as well as the time to do so. Mary Ann was still missing her family terribly of course, but admitted to herself that, there on the island, she was able to experience a certain type of independence that she could never have back on the farm. Gilligan too missed his family, and often talked about his friends from home. However he was able to find adventure on the island, no matter where he went, and he had come to know every inch of it very well. He had befriended many of the island's animal inhabitants and was always discovering new things that brought him joy, such as neat rocks and nifty bird's eggs.

Others were more expressive about their desire to get off the island. Mr. and Mrs. Howell were able to convince themselves from time to time that they were really on some type of vacation of sorts, just without the servants. However, Mrs. Howell greatly missed the social interactions and functions of high society, and Mr. Howell would get his spirit set aflame morning after morning as he was able to listen to the rise and fall of the stock prices on the daily news, but was powerless to participate in the market. Ginger, while being sure to practice her acting craft as best she could during their tropical exile, yearned for a return to Hollywood and her adoring fans. The Skipper kept focused with his ongoing duties, but was quite vocal about the things he missed back home – particularly mentioning his longings for a thick, juicy steak that he knew could be found back on the mainland.

Nevertheless, no matter what their personal levels of contentment were there on the island, they all functioned reasonably well until this one particular day of the year rolled around. It fell over them like an oppressive blanket of sadness, and until it passed, it was as if they were all moving in slow motion.

Everyone sat around the table at breakfast that morning, chatting with one other as they would on any other day. Although the content of the banter seemed normal enough, the discouragement in the air was palpable. With the radio playing in the background, they talked of everything under the sun except what was really on their minds. The Skipper was rambling on about repairing the lobster traps, and Gilligan just kept saying, "… yes, Skipper… yes, Skipper," absentmindedly in reply. He was listening, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Ginger and Mrs. Howell were caught up in a conversation regarding the length of a hemlines deemed proper for a formal occasion, yet neither invested much energy in defending their differing opinions, as they both knew that it really didn't matter anymore. Mr. Howell was talking to the Professor about the possibility of an upgrade to his disintegrating bamboo polo pony. As he droned on about creating one that would actually move, the Professor indulged him but, as he sat with an elbow on the table, and his head resting on his hand, he was really only hearing words at that point, and didn't have the heart to begin to contemplate what feat of engineering might be attempted to make such a dream a reality.

Mary Ann had just placed a dish of cut up pineapple on the table and had sat down between the Professor and Gilligan when the radio broadcaster began speaking about a day in history.

"Quiet everybody!" directed the Skipper. But, aside from Gilligan, who snapped out of his silent revelry and turned his head toward his captain, no one paid heed, and conversations continued on.

"I said QUIET!" the captain bellowed in his loudest and most commanding voice. That got everyone's attention at last.

"Sorry folks, but the news is on," pointed out the Skipper in a calmer tone.

The Skipper dialed up the volume knob, and all quieted down just in time to hear the tail end of the _This Day in History_ portion of the day's broadcast. Together they all listened as the radio announcer continued:

"Today also marks the anniversary of the fateful trip and subsequent loss of the tiny ship, the S.S. Minnow. It was operated by the well-liked and notably brave and sure captain, former Navy man, Jonas Grumby, and his one man crew. The ship set sail from a tropic port in the Hawaiian Islands, and embarked on what was to be a three hour tour. Many ships have vanished over the years due to the rough weather that appears suddenly across the waters of the Pacific. However, the search for this particular vessel continued notably longer than normal due to the extensive media coverage revolving around its disappearance. The five person passenger list included the famed multi-millionaire Thurston Howell, III and his socialite wife, Eunice "Lovey" Howell, as well as the beautiful, former Hollywood starlet, Miss Ginger Grant. In other news…"

The Skipper reached over and clicked off the radio... All the castaways sat in silence. The air felt as heavy as their hearts. No one felt much like eating after that. Even Gilligan, normally a veritable bottomless pit at mealtimes, pushed his plate away in sadness.

"I can't believe it's been another year…" bewailed the Skipper, rolling his eyes skyward.

"Another year gone on this blasted island! And the very idea! Thurston Howell, III, a captain of industry, the Wolf of Wall Street, reduced to a mere matter of trivia! Shocking!" thundered Mr. Howell.

"There, there Thurston," Mrs. Howell said, patting her husband consolingly on the cheek with one gloved hand while pulling out one of her finely embroidered handkerchiefs from her handbag with the other. She dabbed her eyes delicately.

Tears ran down Ginger's face as well, as she voiced her lament over the death of a career that came far too soon. "I can't believe I'm just a has-been now, 'the _former_ Hollywood starlet'." With her head in her hands, she burst into a full sob, thinking to herself that she would give anything to see those bright, sparkling lights of Hollywood again.

"They didn't even mention me," Mary Ann whimpered weakly as she started to cry.

_Or me,_ the Professor thought to himself as he just sat silently with downcast eyes. He managed to reach over and rest his hand on Mary Ann's back in an attempt to console her as she wept into her napkin, but he was so caught up in his own thoughts that he had no words of comfort to offer.

The Skipper looked around the table at the sullen men and the crying ladies, feeling completely responsible, yet at a total loss. He was out of ideas, and he too had lost heart. "I'm so sorry folks. I just don't know what to say…"

Gilligan felt crushed as he watched his usually valiant captain slide into such a pit of defeat. Mary Ann's cries were growing louder beside him, Ginger was collapsed in sadness across from him, and Mrs. Howell's delicate dabbing of her handkerchief was not keeping up with the flow of her tears. He felt his heart would break. There had to be something that could be done to raise their spirits. But what?

_Think Gilligan, think! I've got to think! _He stared down at the table, his mind spinning wildly and furiously. Finally, it came to him.

"I know, I know!" Gilligan cried out as he rose to his feet, wringing his hands with excitement.

"You know what, Gilligan?" asked the Skipper weakly.

"I know something that we can do that will cheer us all up!" he said with a smile, thus catching everyone's attention. "Let's have an anniversary party!"

"Gilligan! That has to be one of your dumbest ideas yet. Can't you see how upset everyone is? No one wants to have a party to celebrate being stuck here on this island for another year," explained an irritated Skipper.

"No, Skipper you don't understand. I don't mean an anniversary party for us being marooned. How about we change this day into a different anniversary?"

"Gilligan, my boy, what_ ahhhre_ you talking about?" questioned Mr. Howell.

Everyone else was also staring at him quizzically.

"How about we each pick something important that happened in our lives, something really happy… maybe something that nobody else even knows about, and we can pretend that this day is the that it happened. We can have a big party tonight, and then we can all tell each other what anniversary we are celebrating. C'mon, everybody. Whadda ya say?" he pleaded hopefully. "It will get our minds off the shipwreck, and it will be fun!" explained Gilligan, urging the group on with his most enthusiastic tone.

Pausing thoughtfully for a moment, the Skipper soon replied, "You know, Gilligan, that's not such a bad idea." Then, turning to address the seated group he asked, "What do you think, folks? Shall we give it try?"

"Well, it would certainly provide a welcome distraction from the more somber reflections of the day," agreed the Professor.

Mary Ann had been looking up at Gilligan, proud of him as usual, and her cheery smile was returning to her face. "That sounds like a wonderful idea Gilligan, although I really don't have anything big to celebrate," she said slightly hesitantly.

"That's okay, Mary Ann. We are all going to pick something small and personal. It doesn't have to be big," was Gilligan's encouraging reply, directed to Mary Ann, but repeated for the benefit of everyone at the table.

"All right then. I'm in." Mary Ann replied with a smile, standing up with determination. "And I'd be more than happy to make some special dishes and pies for the occasion!" she added with a chipper voice.

"I'm in too," Ginger declared, having dried her eyes and regained her normal countenance. "Oooooo! This is so exciting!" she exclaimed with a small squeal of delight. "It's just like the premier of a new movie! I'd be glad to give you a hand, Mary Ann," she offered, then continued, "and I've got just the perfect dress in mind to wear." Ginger clasped her near perfectly manicured hands together in excitement as she began to mentally travel through the high points of her career, wondering what "anniversary" she might pick.

"Girls, I can certainly aid with the food preparations. I'll head into the jungle and gather some herbs to add to our salad," announced the Professor with a beaming smile, inwardly surprised at how quickly his own enthusiasm was building. He even came up with an idea for a small "invention" of sorts that he could fabricate by the end of the day that he thought would add to the festivities.

Mrs. Howell had definitely brightened up upon hearing the first mate's suggestion. "I think it's a _maaaaarvelous_ idea, Gilligan!" she declared. "Oh, I just _adooooore _planning parties! Come Thurston, I have a million things to do!" she said, standing, and giving her husband a little tug on the arm.

"Yes, Lovey dear. Let's head back to our hut." Then of course adding in one of his usually witty quips, "I'll check to see what's left in my private stock to help us all get in the _spirit_ of the occasion, if you know what I mean," he said, laughingly.

"Well, all right then!" declared the Skipper, smiling heartily as he saw the sadness of his passengers turn into excitement as they planned on ways to implement his first mate's idea. "Gilligan and I will be sure we have plenty of fresh fish and lobster for the celebration. Come on, Little Buddy, we've got a lot of work to do!"

Off they all scattered, each to their own tasks and own thoughts, ready to spend the day with their chores and their memories.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 - PREPARATIONS

Down at the beach, the Skipper found himself getting smacked in the face, yet again, by a fish that Gilligan had reeled in.

"Gilligan!" he roared. "I told you to be more careful!"

"Sorry, Skipper!" said Gilligan, wincing, apologizing for about the tenth time that morning. He had already, over the course of about two hours, managed to trip his captain, drop a basket of coconuts on his foot, get him tangled in a fishnet, catch his fishing hook on the Skipper's shirt, spill the entire bucket of caught fish on him, and leave a half-eaten banana right where the Skipper was about to sit down. Now - another fish to the face. Seeing the Skipper was about to lose his cool, and a whack of his cap was only moments away, Gilligan suggested, "Maybe I should head over to the lagoon and check the lobster traps now."

"Yes, Gilligan," grumbled the Skipper in retort, about to blow, "maybe you should!"

As Gilligan ran off, the Skipper rolled his eyes and removed his cap to shake off the sand that Gilligan had just kicked up all over him in his quick departure. Then he pulled his arm across his face to wipe off the water and fish slime that had landed on there after Gilligan's last catch. He sat down atop a large piece of driftwood, and let out a sigh. His first mate drove him to the point of explosion many a time, but he had the greatest of affection for his little buddy. While he could not begin to understand what went on the young man's head sometimes, he knew his heart was always in the right place.

Putting his fishing pole aside for a moment, he stared out at the ocean in an effort to calm himself down. The sea. It had been his constant companion for most of his life.

"Ah, my old friend," said the Skipper as he watch the waves rolling in. He smiled to himself, knowing just which particular "memory" he would celebrate that night.

* * *

While the Skipper and Gilligan had been busy down by the beach, the Professor had stopped by their little island garden on his way to collect the herbs that would go into the salad portion of their meal for the evening. He wanted to check on the state of some of the plants that had been looking a little extra droopy over the past few days. Concerned that perhaps they were not getting enough water, or that some blight might be taking over their important food source, he felt a closer scrutiny was in order. He bent down to carefully examine the leaves of one of the plants. Although the plant was indeed fine, touching the leaf gave him a brief flash of familiarity, which then led him down a memory path he did not often travel. "Hmmmph," was the only sound he vocalized. His face was serious and a bit sullen, but softened slightly as he lingered in thought. Gradually, a small smile appeared. He finished his inspection and headed off to retrieve the jungle herbs.

* * *

Back in the hut area, Mary Ann was busying herself with the cutting and chopping of different fruits – pineapple, papaya, guava and mangoes. She was glad that they had such a plentiful variety of produce on the island. The lettuce from the garden sat in another bowl, awaiting the herbs the Professor was to bring back. _How beautiful it all looks_, she inwardly marveled as she eyed everything spread out across the table. All the different colors blended so well together. The scents were also a delight. Her thoughts began to wander back to her home in Kansas, and a certain special event popped into her head. She let out a little sigh, and then a little giggle and shoulder shrug, knowing she had just the perfect anniversary moment to relive after all. It was probably not as grand as some of the things the others might come up with, she supposed, but it was special to her. As she continued to dwell on happy thoughts, she pulled some more of their homegrown vegetables onto the cutting board that the Skipper had fashioned for her, years ago, from a plank of wood from the Minnow, and continued on with her planned recipes.

Ginger was in the girl's hut, going through her gowns. After helping Mary Ann, and then preparing one of her own dessert specialties in their make-shift kitchen area, she had headed back there to continue her personal deliberations. She had changed her mind about the outfit she had decided upon that morning. Remembering this was to be an evening affair, she was trying to pick something with a little more sparkle. Ginger chose her white beaded gown, and held it up to her statuesque form as she glanced into the mirror. Still not settled on which memory to share that night, she sat down to think. The rustle of the beading on the gown brought to mind something that tickled her pink. With a sly smile she looked in the mirror and gave a little wink to herself. The decision was made. She kissed a finger then touched it to the mirror.

"Those others actresses back in Hollywood have got nothing on you honey," she said to her reflection, as she fluffed the back of her hair.

* * *

In the Howell's hut there was quite a bit of planning going on. Mrs. Howell was seated at her table, feathered pen in one hand, while her other bejeweled hand lightly touched her chin as she contemplatively hovered over her event planning journal.

"Thurston, there is just simply too much to do! How can we possibly be expected to organize an elegant anniversary party in only a matter of hours? This would be simply unheard of back home. I suppose we must dispense with the invitations as the party is tonight, but there is still the coordinating of our attire, and the matter of the gifts... How on earth are we to get all this done by this evening?" said the flustered heiress.

"Lovey, darling, you're making far too much of this," replied her husband, as he sat sprawled out on the lounge chair in their hut, sipping on some beverage of unknown contents. "It's just a little distraction Gilligan thought up to entertain us for the evening. And there was certainly no mention of gifts!" he stated, contemplating how this party would affect his wallet. "Really, dear, you're acting as if this were the social event of the season," he continued, after taking another sip from the straw extending out from his bamboo cup.

"But it is!" she replied with full drama and a gleeful smile as she contemplated the event ahead, "…and of course there must be gifts! What proper anniversary celebration does not include the giving of gifts? Thurston, darling, I think all this time we've spent away from civilization has made you forget the rules of etiquette. "

"You're quite right my dear. I suppose it _is_ up to us to bring class to this evening's little island soiree."

"It most certainly is!" Mrs. Howell confirmed with one determined nod of her head. Smiling, she directed her attention back to her journal. A moment later, she looked up and asked her husband, "Thurston, have you decided upon an event from your past to celebrate tonight?"

"Well, I have given it some thought, but I'm torn between the time I made my first million, or my second million, or my…"

"Thurston Howell the Third! Really! I do believe you are completely missing the point of dear Gilligan's suggestion," said Mrs. Howell sternly. "We are supposed to think of something personal. Oh, darling, I _dooo_ wish you would try a little harder," she looked at him with serious, but lovingly pleading eyes.

"Try harder? Why, I'm simply _exhaaaausted_ from the whole extravaganza already. I think Teddy and I need a little nap," he said standing up and starting to head over to his bed.

"Well, you will have to take a nap elsewhere," said his wife as she shooed him to the door, the feathers atop her garment flurrying about. "I have a lot to do, and you're in my way. Now go!"

With that Mr. Howell exited through the regally decorated red lined doors of their hut and headed off to find the perfect sport for a nap outside, hopefully under the cool shade of some palm trees. He was aiming toward one of their outdoor lounging chairs when Gilligan came running through the camp and plowed right into him, knocking them both to the ground.

"I'm real sorry Mr. Howell," said Gilligan as he helped the millionaire to his feet.

"Really, Gilligan, you must learn to watch where you are going!" insisted Mr. Howell as he brushed off his clothes and straightened his ascot. "And what exactly is that awful scent you are sporting? It's positively dreadful," he continued, taking a few steps back. "I think my eyes are actually starting to water," Mr. Howell stated, dramatically contorting his face.

"Oh… that must be the fish," suggested Gilligan. With shoulders shrugged and hands flying about along with the explanation he continued, "You see, I dropped the bucket of fish on the Skipper, and then the fish fell everywhere so I had to pick them all up again. Or maybe it was stuff I was using for bait… or… "

"That's quite enough Gilligan. I think I've got the picture," he said, tapping Gilligan on the arm to halt his explanation. "We Howells are not much interested in fish tales… unless of course they are about _gold_fish. Ha! GOLDfish! My heavens, I am a witty one," he continued, making himself chuckle.

Gilligan just stood there and smiled politely, as he usually did when Mr. Howell would break into one of his rambling quips, whether he understood what he was talking about or not.

A small island breeze kicked up and got more of the stench wafting up the nose of Thurston Howell, III.

"My boy, I _do_ hope you intend to clean up before our little celebration this evening."

"Of course, Mr. Howell. I've just got to go pull in the lobster traps, and then I'll check and see if Mary Ann has my other shirt cleaned."

"Well run along then, son. Don't let me delay you a moment longer," was Mr. Howell's response as he gave Gilligan a little shove toward the path to the lagoon, anxious to put some distance between them.

"Okay, Mr. Howell. See you later!" Gilligan shouted over his shoulder as he ran off to complete his duties, becoming just a blur of red and white through the green jungle foliage.

Gilligan was long gone, but the scent remained. Then Mr. Howell caught a whiff off himself, and rolled his eyes skyward. The stench of fish and the briny ocean was all over him as well. He started back toward his hut to change his clothes, knowing full well that his wife would not be pleased - either with the sight _or _scent of him. He paused in place for a moment. A devilish grin passed across his face_. She certainly WILL be happy later though_, he mused, imagining how his wife would react that evening when he shared the "anniversary" story he had just decided upon. He could hardly contain himself as he scurried back to the hut.

* * *

In her husband's absence, Mrs. Howell had been continuing with her preparations. She had still not decided upon which delightful memory she would share with the group, but she was sure something would come to her eventually. Of first importance was the attire for her and her husband. As she went through the many items in her island closet, she wondered what the others would wear. She thought of the girls, and how handy they had been over the years, sewing new garments with bits of fabric and discarded clothing that had washed ashore. Yet their wardrobe remained limited. She wished she could share some of her finery with them, as they had become like daughters to her. _ If only we were closer in size,_ she thought to herself. _Mary Ann is so tiny, and Ginger is so tall…_ Then she thought of the men, and how they sadly wore the same tired items week after week. A wondrous smile lit across her face as she made a decision regarding some "anniversary" gifts for her fellow castaways.

As she continued to pull items from her closet, looking for just the right attire for a formal dinner party, her hand ran across a beautiful, long, velvet gown that she had not been able to wear since they had been on the island. It was far too hot and humid for such a dress, but as her hand fell across the fabric, a thought crossed her mind that made her wrinkle up her nose in as she did when she was very delighted.

"I've got it!" she proclaimed with a small squeal, clasping her hands together. She allowed herself but a moment to dwell on her memories, then quickly roused herself out of her revelry, and continued on running about the hut, as if she were preparing for a debutant ball.

* * *

Down at the lagoon, the Professor emerged from a leafy patch of island foliage, bucket in hand, just as Gilligan was pulling in his lobster traps.

"Well, hello there Gilligan. Any success?" asked the Professor, nodding toward the traps.

"Yeah! You won't believe the size of the lobsters I caught. We're gonna eat real good tonight!" Gilligan answered proudly. Then he asked, "What are you doing down here Professor? I thought you were picking herbs and things for the party tonight."

"Oh, that's all completed Gilligan. I'm just headed over to the spring to get some water for a little project I'm working on for this evening."

"What kind of project?" asked the first mate.

"That, Gilligan, will be a surprise," he replied with a broad smile. "See you a little later," said the Professor as he gave Gilligan a kind double tap on the shoulder and continued on his way.

"I can't believe all these lobsters I caught!" said Gilligan out loud, turning attention back to his task at hand. He gathered them up as quickly as he could, and started to head back to camp. All he could think of was how pleased the Skipper would be when he showed him the catch. All of a sudden, Gilligan came to a complete halt. The wheels of his mind were turning, and a large smile appeared on his face. He resumed his return to camp with an even faster pace.

The party was only hours away.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE: HAPPY MEMORIES BEGIN

The dining area was decorated beautifully. Flowers were on the table, and strategically placed everywhere. The sweet-smelling aroma was beckoning, and some of the happy celebrants had already arrived. The Skipper and Mr. Howell were standing near their current version of a turntable, choosing some appropriate music for the occasion. A few months back, the Professor had come up with a special winding mechanism which enabled the device to sustain movement on its own for about thirty minutes before its handle needed to be cranked up again. Now they could all enjoy music and dancing without one castaway always needing to man the contraption.

Gilligan, with his clean red shirt tucked in and buttons done up all the way to the top, was pulling a chair out for Mrs. Howell.

"Thank you, dear boy," she said, patting him on cheek before she sat down.

The girls were still in their hut. Ginger had just finished pinning a lovely red flower in Mary Ann's hair, and they were about to head over to the party when they heard a knock at their door. They opened it and there stood the Professor, dressed in his brown corduroy sport coat that he donned for special occasions.

"My, don't you ladies look lovely this evening," he said charmingly. In quite the chivalrous fashion he asked, "Might I escort you both to the celebration?" The girls agreed, each took and arm and they were off.

Once all had arrived, the festivities began. Delicious food was covering the table. Music played on in the background. Everyone was laughing and talking, and inwardly equally excited to tell their special story and hear that of the others. They didn't know what to expect.

Finally, when all were full, the Skipper thought it was time to move on to the exciting telling of the tales. From his position at the head of the table, he cleared his throat loud enough to get everyone's attention.

"Folks," he said with a most cheerful tone, "I think it's time to start sharing our anniversary stories. Who wants to go first?"

"Why don't you go first Skipper?" suggested Gilligan. "After all, you're the Skipper."

"Well, that's awfully nice of you Gilligan, but perhaps we should let one of the ladies go first," suggested the Skipper in a gentlemanly fashion. "Mrs. Howell, why don't you tell us what anniversary _you_ would like to celebrate today."

Everyone's eyes turned attentively toward Mrs. Howell. She sat there beaming and regal, with her perfectly coiffed hair topped with a tiara, and the bracelets worn over her long white gloves sparkling brilliantly. Her hands were raised, poised to tell her tale…

"Now this may sound a little silly, but Gilligan did suggest something small, something no one else was aware of…" she said, hesitating to continue.

"Is is something that made you happy, Mrs. Howell?" asked Gilligan.

"Why yes. Very happy indeed," she replied.

"Then it will be a great story! Go ahead tell us," he encouraged.

All the others pleaded for her to continue.

"Well, all right then. No one here knows this, not even my darling Thurston, but I was somewhat of a mischievous child, and quite a handful for my parents, the poor dears."

"My Lovey, a little troublemaker, eh?" said Mr. Howell will a grin.

"Yes, dear. I'm sorry to have to tell you these things, but it's the truth. I would frequently run off and scamper about outside with some of the servant's children. I would not be present when the dinner bell rang, and when I was finally found and cleaned up, I refused to eat my food, or sit still at the table. Mother and father tried everything to make me behave, but I suppose I just had a stubborn streak in me."

None of the other castaways interrupted, but some did smile, as they recognized a similar strong will and determination in the Mrs. Howell that they had grown to love, and were secretly delighted to learn that she too had a childhood much like their own.

She continued, "Finally, one day my parents promised me something very special – a dessert that I had never tasted before. They told me I could only have some if I would promise to behave with refinement and decorum during our dinner with the Duke and Duchess of… oh, somewhere of some import – I can't even remember where they were from now. Was it Germany, or France, or…"

"Never mind where they were from Lovey dear, just continue," urged her husband, bringing her back on point.

"Oh yes, of course, darling. Now, where was I?"

"You were going to have dinner with a Duke and Duchess," replied Mary Ann, her hands gripping the edge of the table in anticipation.

"That's right. Thank you, dear. Well, I was so curious to see what this wondrous dessert was that I sat still throughout the whole dinner. Finally, the meal ended and the desserts were brought to the table in elegant silver dishes. When the covers were raised, there it was…"

All were drawn into Mrs. Howell's dramatic telling of her tale, but Gilligan was especially wide-eyed.

"It was the most wondrous, delectable thing I had ever tasted. Its texture was so soft and smooth that it reminded me of velvet. I carefully put each spoonful into my mouth with the utmost of care and delicacy and relished every bit until it was gone. It was the most fantastic culinary delight I had ever encountered."

"What was it, Mrs. Howell?" Gilligan asked with great enthusiasm, unable to contain himself and longer.

"It was… ice cream!" the heiress proclaimed.

"Ice cream?" her fellow castaways all said at once.

"Yes! Ice cream," she stated firmly. "Now I realize that this is something quite commonplace nowadays. Well, perhaps not here on the island, but back home I know it is considered normal fare among all social strata. However, you must understand that I was quite young at the time and I had never tasted anything like it. It was divine!" said Mrs. Howell, clasping her hands together and wrinkling up her nose in delight. She continued, "I promised my parents that evening that I would always behave like a lady, if I could just have more of that delicious frozen treat, and I kept my word. I wanted to act as refined, delicate and elegant as I found that dish to be."

"And you most certainly have, my dear," said her husband, kissing her gloved hand.

Mary Ann looked across the table at the woman she had come to admire so greatly, and smiled lovingly and appreciatively at her. She had always been in awe of Mrs. Howell's sophistication, her elegance and her grace. _And to think… such a small thing like ice cream could transform an impish child into such a lady…" _reflected Mary Ann. She tilted her head slightly as she watched the sweet scene before her, clutching her hand to her chest as she watched Mr. Howell kiss his wife's hand.

"Gee, Mrs. Howell," interjected Gilligan, "you must have been real happy when we got those two buckets of ice cream I wished for!"

Ginger and Mary Ann both shot a worried glance across the table at the Professor. They knew that every time the subject of that wishing rock came up, the Professor was insistent upon reminding all of them that the ice cream must have fallen off a ship or been dropped by an airplane. But he said nothing of the sort that evening. The Professor, seated on the other side of Mrs. Howell, just smiled warmly at her as she continued to express herself.

"I was delighted beyond belief!" Mrs. Howell replied to Gilligan's words.

"You didn't act any different than the rest of us, Mrs. Howell," Ginger stated.

"Yes, I know dear. That is because a Howell must be composed at all times. But secretly… my heart was aflutter. I _adoooore_ ice cream… and when we get home, that is the first thing I shall have served at our table," proclaimed Mrs. Howell decisively.

Ginger smiled at Mrs. Howell, who was seated directly across from her. She was growing more and more impressed with the dramatic abilities of the heiress. She remembered trying to teach her how to be an actress years before when it was thought that the Howells had lost all their money and needed to acquire some skills to function in society. Mrs. Howell didn't seem to be able to pick up the trade too well that day, but perhaps she misjudged her. The way she told her tale that evening, keeping them all at the edge of their seats – it was captivating. And being able to pretend that she was simply eating an everyday dish when in reality she was bursting inside with delight over that ice cream – well that was some ability indeed! _A natural knack for acting after all! Mrs. Howell. Who knew? s_he thought to herself.

"Well, Mrs. Howell," said the Skipper with a giant smile, "I think that is a PERFECT anniversary to celebrate! The first time you had ice cream, and how it helped to make you the gracious and cultured lady we all know and love. Allow me to be the first to say, happy anniversary!"

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!" they all cheered in unison. As the castaways clapped, Mrs. Howell smiled brightly, and politely nodded to them in gratitude.

When the applause subsided, Mr. Howell rose to his feet.

"As my dear wife has demonstrated such bravery by sharing a surprising tidbit from her early years, I would like to add a spot of history from my childhood as well… if the two other ladies would permit me."

"Oh yes, please do Mr. Howell," encouraged Mary Ann.

Ginger nodded in agreement, motioning for him to continue.

"Well, you see, I too went through a bit of a rough patch in my youth," began Mr. Howell. "I can still hear dear old dad now, threatening punishment if I did not get my language under control."

"Was he going to wash your mouth out with soap, Mr. Howell?" asked Gilligan.

"No my boy, even worse - with _domestic champagne!_" he replied, shuddering at the memory.

"Oh, Thurston! How dreadful!" said Mrs. Howell, touching her hand lightly to her chest.

"Indeed…" said Mr. Howell, reflectively. "However, what I have to share is even more shocking than a substandard substance intruding upon the refined Howell palate. I had a little run in with Gilligan earlier today that brought to mind something from my past that I have preferred to keep undisclosed until now. Yet, it was a pivotal occurrence in my life, and probably made me into the man you see before you this evening."

Putting his hand on his wife's shoulder, he admonished her dramatically, "Be strong Lovey. This may be hard to hear…"


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 – THE HOWELL VAULT OPENS

"Go on Thurston," said Mrs. Howell, sitting up straight. It was indeed at her urging that he decided to share something truly personal rather than just regale the group with some corporate nonsense or money amassing diatribe. So, she intended to be completely composed and thus prepared herself to absorb whatever her husband might share.

"Well," began Mr. Howell, "I am ashamed to say that I was not always the picture of courtesy and civility that I am now."

Several eyes rolled, eyebrows rose or giggles were suppressed around the table at that comment, but Mr. Howell did not see the reactions of his fellow castaways. He had assumed a dramatic stance, with one hand on his cummerbund, the other gesturing grandly, and his eyes directed skyward.

"I was somewhat of an insolent child, perhaps a bit spoiled indeed. By the time I had reached my late teens, I began to assert myself and my opinions with even greater force, being particularly boorish to the servants. Thus, one day, father announced that he had secured me a job for the summer."

"Was it president one of his smaller subsidiary companies, dear?" asked Mrs. Howell.

"No, Lovey, I'm sorry to say that it was not," was his reply.

"Managing the country club, perhaps?" was her second hopeful guess, her voice getting a little shaky, wondering where her husband's story might be leading.

"No my dear, I'm afraid not," countered Mr. Howell, his voice growing more serious as well.

Mrs. Howell was quickly losing her resolve to retain her composure. Not being able to imagine anything worse that running the country club, she said, "Oh Thurston, you're frightening me. Where on earth was this job?"

"It was a fast-food eatery, in the low rent district."

His revelation sparked various reactions. Gilligan had a dreamy look on his face as thoughts of a big, juicy hamburger danced in his head. He could practically taste it. Mary Ann was also smiling at Mr. Howell's reference, although a bit wistfully, as she remembered the afternoons she spent with her friends at the small malt shop back home. Mrs. Howell, on the other hand, looked horrified.

_A Howell, associated with anything so common as a vendor peddling throwaway cuts of beef...on the streets? Impossible! _she thought. "My dear, how utterly dreadful. Why on earth would your father buy you such a place as…"

Her husband cut her off. "Lovey dear, I think you are misunderstanding me. I didn't own the place. I _worked_ there," clarified Mr. Howell.

A gasp was heard across the table. No one was prepared for that, least of all Mrs. Howell.

"A Howell? Working… with their hands? I think I may faint!" said his wife dramatically, as she picked up her fan which was lying on the table, opening it and putting it into fast action. "Thurston, are you telling another one of your jokes that I don't quite understand?"

"No, no Lovey, it is all too true."

The Skipper was completely taken aback. Given Mr. Howell's penchant for lounging around and his ability to get others to do his share of the work on the island, he could not begin to imagine the millionaire behind the counter of a burger joint. "You mean you actually cooked the food on a greasy grill and served the customers?" he asked in disbelief.

"Most certainly not!" the millionaire proclaimed, appearing offended. "The very idea!"

"Well, what _did_ you do, Mr. Howell?" asked Ginger.

"I…" Mr. Howell then crossed one arm across his chest and brought the other up in front of his mouth and mumbled out the rest of the sentence in such a low tone that none of the others could make out a word that he said.

"You what?" asked the Skipper, wrinkling his brow.

"I said I…" and again, he mumbled out the rest of the sentence.

All the other six looked confused and continued begging him to repeat what he said. Finally Mr. Howell took his hand away from his mouth and burst out loudly, "I cut up onions and took out the _traaaahsh._"

The Professor and Mary Ann looked at each other across the table in astonishment, his eyebrows up and her mouth open. Ginger covered her mouth in shock. The Skipper was speechless, and this time Mrs. Howell really did look like she was going to faint. She started tipping backwards, and the Professor reached out an arm to steady the grand lady.

"You, Mr. Howell? I can't believe it!" said Gilligan, innocently voicing the words they were all thinking.

"Yes, my boy, it's true. Brings tears to your eyes, does it not?" Then he mumbled a little aside in addition, "Certainly brought tears to _mine_… in more ways than one I might add."

On he went with his story. "I positively reeked of onions, and as the establishment did not believe in wasting the liners for their garbage pails, they had me remove the trash into bins in the rear of the building, and bring the liners back for reuse. I must say, the scent I carried was unbearable – much like the one you were sporting earlier today, Gillian," he said, addressing the first mate with one of his cheeky smiles.

Gilligan, who was still dreaming of his hamburger, smiled at the mention of his name, but then quickly realized it was not compliment he initially took it to be. "Hey…" he remarked in protest, and then his smiled dropped down into a frown.

"Thurston, I don't think I can hear another word of this. Why, why - you're not at all the man I thought I married."

"Lovey, please take hold of yourself, my dear," pleaded Mr. Howell, sitting down beside his wife and patting her hand. "This doesn't change the man I am. It was just dear old dad's way of trying to teach me a lesson of sorts. Also, he was curious to see how long I could last in such an environment."

"And exactly how long was that Mr. Howell?" asked the Skipper.

"Well, I'm a quick learner you see, so of course I was fired by the end of the day."

The Skipper rolled his eyes. _I'm surprised he lasted that long,_ he thought to himself.

"A limousine was sent, and I was whisked back to the mansion for a shower and change of clothes, then I was immediately brought to the Howell corporate headquarters where I was given my own office and my first real job at father's company."

"So, you mean to tell us that this never happened again? Really, Thurston, it's one thing to try and do our part here on this dreary little island, but when we return home, you must promise me that you have no plans to run off some day and…and…," she trailed off, getting herself quite worked up.

Thurston Howell put a reassuring arm around his wife and said, "Lovey dear, you know what I always say: Hard work never killed anybody… _but why take the risk!_" adding his dry laugh at the punch line and giving his wife his sly grin.

She smiled back and him and felt herself reviving, but the other castaways were confused.

"So, what exactly are you saying, Mr. Howell?" asked the Skipper. "Are you celebrating the anniversary of when you learned the value of a hard day's work… or the day you got your first job at your father's company?"

"Actually, I was celebrating never having to do manual labor ever again…" he countered.

His reply was met with more eye rolls around the table.

_Oh, Mr. Howell…, _thought the Professor to himself. He was amazed at how quickly the cheerful atmosphere had devolved into one more chaotic in nature. He had been sitting there, studying the scene as if it were a chess match, contemplating whether or not he should interject and remind Mr. Howell of the purpose of the celebration.

Others seated around the table had been having similar thoughts. However the castaways felt their tensions ease as Mr. Howell continued, "…but upon reflection earlier today, I realized that I _did_ learn something from my little foray into such a workplace."

Mr. Howell rose to his feet again, dramatically explaining, "I had experienced the struggles of the common man. I never wish to partake of them again myself, of course, I assure you, however the entire extravaganza did most certainly make me appreciate the hard work of others. I realize that my gratitude may not shine through on many occasions, but allow me to be clear. You ladies and gentlemen seated here have made this island exile far more bearable for me and my dear wife, and for that I shall be eternally grateful, and I wish to offer you all my sincerest of thanks."

The others felt their insides warm as Mr. Howell expressed feelings that they knew were difficult for him to admit, but were genuine and heartfelt.

"Well...happy anniversary, Mr. Howell – for everything that you just said," stated the good-natured first mate, with a big smile.

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!" all the others chimed in together.

As they clapped, he offered thanks to all and re-seated himself beside his wife.

"Oh Thurston, that was beautiful," said Mrs. Howell, putting her gloved hand lovingly on her husband's cheek and patting it gently with endearment. The color had returned to her face, as did her full smile.

"Yes, yes, well… in the spirit of things - this being an anniversary celebration after all - we wanted to add to the occasion by sharing some gifts," Mr. Howell stated as he picked up various items he had stowed beneath the table.

"Now, Mr. Howell, that's not necessary," the Skipper said.

"Yeah, Mr. Howell. I didn't know we were giving each other presents. I was so busy all day just getting things ready for the party," said a concerned Gilligan.

The others were adding similar sentiments.

"Nonsense!" said Mr. Howell, silencing them all. "You all worked very hard to put together this _maaarvelous _meal for us,"

"And decorated everything so _beauuuutifullly_," inserted his wife.

"So we wanted to contribute something as well," finished Mr. Howell.

Acknowledging each one in turn as he spoke their names, Mr. Howell continued, "Skipper, Professor, Gilligan… My dear Lovey reminded me this afternoon that your wardrobes are rather limited, and suggested that I might share something out of the Howell inventory. I know we packed light for this little island excursion, but I have more than enough to spare a few items."

_Packed light?_ Laughing internally, but only letting a little smile show on his face, Gilligan thought back to how long it had taken to get the Howell's luggage aboard the Minnow they day the departed from port. _Trunk after trunk after trunk….._he remembered.

"Well, I may have suggested it, but Thurston picked out everything himself," Mrs. Howell said proudly. She had wondered why her husband had been so cooperative with her suggestion earlier that evening in their hut, but after hearing his story, she understood completely.

Mr. Howell got up and walked over to Gilligan first, handing him various clothing items he had worn during his brief stint as Thurston Howell, IV.

"Gee, thanks, Mr. Howell. This is awfully nice of you, but I'm sure I'll just mess up all these nice clothes. You know how I'm always falling into things and spilling things, and…"

"Yes Gilligan, I'm well aware of your activities. So, perhaps you can reserve these items for special occasions, such as this evening," Mr. Howell replied, helping Gilligan on with a suit jacket.

"Good idea, Mr. Howell," replied Gilligan, sitting up a little straighter and bobbing his head around a little in pride over his instantly upgraded look.

"And as for you other two gentlemen, if you would stop by my hut tomorrow morning, I feel I have items that can be resized if they fit your taste. Ha! Sort of a millionaire's yard sale if you will…" he said with his high society laugh. "I'm sure seams can be taken in… or let out," he said, patting the Skipper on the arm, then mumbling, "big fellow…biceps and all…"

"All right, Mr. Howell," said the Skipper, brushing Mr. Howell off of him and letting that reference to his weight go by with just a smile.

"In the meantime, here is a little something I think you can both don for the remainder of this evening." Mr. Howell handed a silk ascot to the Skipper and the Professor. As he returned to his seat, both voiced their appreciation.

"And girls," Mrs. Howell said, directing her attention over to Ginger and Mary Ann, "I have something for you both as well." First she handed Mary Ann a wooden jewelry box with beautiful carvings and ivory insets on the top.

Mary Ann's eyes lit up with surprise and delight as she examined it with care, running her hands over the smooth edges. "It's absolutely beautiful, Mrs. Howell."

"I've seen that little cardboard box you keep your valuables in dear, and it simply won't do. Now, this would be far more appropriate. It might not appear to be much, but it has been in my family for generations."

"Oh, Mrs. Howell! I could never accept something so valuable!" Mary Ann protested, trying to hand the gift back.

"Nonsense! Of course you can dear. Since Thurston and I were never able to have children of our own, I have often wondered who this would get passed along to. Since you and Ginger have become like daughters to me, I thought it only fitting that I should share some of my treasured items with you both."

Mary Ann was truly touched by the sentiment, and honored to be thought of so fondly. "Mrs. Howell… this is so kind of you, but I really don't own that much jewelry, and certainly nothing fine enough to keep in this beautiful box."

"Well, you do now dear. Open it," replied Mrs. Howell.

Mary Ann's eyes widened. Inside the jewelry box was a very dainty pair of deep red ruby earrings. "Oh, they are absolutely beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"I thought they would go quite nicely with your red party dress," she said, referencing the outfit Mary Ann was wearing.

"Oh thank you so much Mrs. Howell! I'll treasure them always!"

As Mary Ann was putting on her earrings, Mrs. Howell handed Ginger her gift. Ginger lifted the lid of the box, gasped and snapped it closed so quickly that only Gilligan, seated beside her, got a glance at what was inside.

Ginger started to cry. All she could say to Mrs. Howell was, "How did you know?"

"Know what?" asked the heiress.

"My story! How could you know? I didn't tell anyone…" Ginger replied through her tears.

"My dear girl, whatever are you talking about?" asked Mrs. Howell, clueless as to what could have been provoking the reaction that Ginger was having.

Tears were running down Ginger's cheeks and she was speechless. The others could do nothing but wait as Ginger tried to compose herself enough to explain.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 – 'THE GINGER GRANT STORY'

Ginger was still shaking inside at the amazing choice of a gift that Mrs. Howell had produced that evening. There was, in reality, no way that the heiress could have known the story she was going to share, so this was nothing but a coincidence – and a superbly wonderful coincidence at that. However, it knocked Ginger off her game momentarily.

Sternly she said inwardly, _Get a hold of yourself! You're Ginger Grant, the actress. Even if you are not okay, you have to be okay. You're an actress … so ACT!_

She cleared her throat a bit.

"Ginger, are you all right?" asked the Skipper, with great uneasiness. He could never bear to see a lady cry.

"I'm fine," said Ginger in reply, dabbing her eyes lightly so as not to mar her makeup. Mary Ann had her hand resting lightly and supportively on the movie star's shoulder.

"Are you sure, Ginger?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

Looking around the table at the worried faces she reassured them, "Really everyone. I'm fine. The gift just caught me by surprise, that's all."

"Well, what's in the box, dear girl?" asked Mr. Howell. He was unaware of what his wife has chosen as gifts for the girls and now that Mary Ann's had been revealed, his curiosity over what his dear Lovey had picked out for Ginger was getting harder and harder to contain. He did not like to be out the loop when matters touched on the financial, and he was sure anything his wife could have produced would have an effect on his fiscal future.

The others too were clamoring for Ginger to reveal the contents of the box.

Ginger, appearing to be fully recovered from her emotional outburst, acknowledged their requests but said, "I know you are all curious, but I would like to show you the gift _after_ I finish my story. Then my reaction will make much more sense."

The others understood and agreed to wait patiently until after she shared her story. The emotions Ginger had experienced were truly emotions of surprise and joy, however no one knew that. _Who knows what they are imagining?_ she thought to herself. Perhaps she could use this unanticipated turn of events, and the emotions it stirred, not only in herself, but in all the castaways, to good effect.

Ginger had, in fact, spent the late afternoon mentally scripting a suspenseful way to begin her anniversary story. Now her unexpected show of tears was threatening to disrupt what she had planned to be, not only a wonderful tale to tell, but also a chance to practice the craft that she loved. She knew she had to pull herself together and press on, brushing off the emotions that were overwhelming her. So, being the consummate actress that she was, she composed herself and began to speak.

"Well, it all started many years ago." Ginger then paused and looked around the table, making sure all had settled in and were paying attention. As she continued to weave her tale, she added broad gestures and elongated pauses for effect at spots where the narrative allowed.

"The night was dark and very stormy," she resumed. "The winds outside were howling. Rain was pelting down hard on the roof. There was a loud knock on the door. Despite pleas in the background to wait… I rushed forward, being pulled by inward forces that I could not control. I _had_ to know who was on the other side of that door. I ran to it and flung it open wide without thinking. Suddenly, I felt powerless to move. Two large arms had reached around me and pinned my arms to my sides. I was lifted off the floor. No matter how I struggled, I could not break free. Finally, they released me, and I ran as fast as my legs could carry me."

Gilligan's mouth was open almost as wide as his eyes. Mary Ann was clutching the edge of the table, her nails digging into the bamboo. The Professor, Mr. and Mrs. Howell and the Skipper had all leaned in closer so they could catch every word.

Only Gilligan was brave enough to break the silence, asking, "And then what happened?"

As much as she was enjoying the feeling of performance once again, with an audience captivated, holding their breath, hanging on her every word, Ginger just could not put her friends through too much more. It was time to take them off this emotional roller coaster and get back to the purpose of the occasion. Therefore she ended her acting exercise and answered Gilligan's question.

"My mother said, 'Get back here and give your Aunt Ida a proper hug!' She had come for a visit when I was about six or seven and when I opened the door she grabbed me and hugged me so hard that I couldn't move. She even lifted me right off the floor!" the starlet said with a small chuckle and a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, Ginger…" said the Skipper with a relieved smile.

The others exhaled a collective sigh of relief as well. They had become accustomed to living on the island with a well-trained actress, and they were well aware of her penchant for adding extra drama to an event whenever possible, so they had learned to take it in stride. However, she still managed to catch them off guard sometimes, much to her delight, but their chagrin.

"Anyway, she brought us all little gifts, wrapped up in the prettiest paper and topped with beautiful large bows. But I was just a kid. I was more anxious to see what was inside, so I tore it open."

"Well, what did she give you, Ginger?" asked Mary Ann, now recovered from the dramatic introduction. She had heard Ginger tell so many stories about movie stars and casting directors, so she was intrigued to hear something about her life as a child. So far, she could relate. Mary Ann thought back to the excitement she always felt at getting a wrapped gift back home, even though it usually ended up being an article of clothing or some type of kitchen utensil.

"Actually, it was a box of beads," answered Ginger. "Little, pretty pink ones. And some string. They were nothing expensive of course, but they were small and sparkling. I quickly strung them together into a necklace for myself. Oh, how I loved that pink necklace!" Ginger said with her hands clasped together, her smile bright, and her eyes shining at the memory.

Gilligan was confused. He was sure Ginger's favorite memory would be related to one of her famous movies. He was racking his brain trying to figure out how what she was saying, and what he briefly saw in the box that Mrs. Howell gave her, could possibly relate to the films he had seen her in. As Ginger talked he was mentally reviewing the plots of _Belly__ Dancers From Bali-Bali_, _Mohawk Over the Moon_, and _The Rain Dance of Rango-Rango_. He was about to move on to _The Hula Girl and the Fullback_ when something occurred to him. A look of realization passed across his face. He really was a lot smarter than the others gave him credit for. He was a deep thinker in reality, but just came at things from a different angle, so sometimes it appeared as though he was not on the same page as the rest of the castaways. In this case, his natural intelligence, coupled with the added advantage of having a brief look at the gift Ginger received, had allowed him to quickly make a correct connection.

Ginger had been continuing to talk about that necklace of pink beads and how she wore it everywhere – with her red dress and white boots, in all the family pictures, and every time they went out to the store – when Gilligan interrupted her.

"Hey Ginger, is that why you…"

Before he completed his sentence, Ginger gave him a sharp kick under the table. She knew he had briefly seen what was in the box and was putting things together, but she wanted to complete her story.

"Oww!" proclaimed Gilligan, grabbing his leg under the table and looking at Ginger, wondering what the kick was for. She subtly shook her head and looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would understand. He did.

"What's the matter, Gilligan?" asked the Skipper, with a touch of irritation in his voice. He was so engrossed in Ginger's story that he was oblivious to what was transpiring right next to him.

"Oh, nothing Skipper. Must have just been a mosquito or something."

"Well then, be quiet. Go on Ginger," encouraged the Skipper.

"Like I was saying," continued Ginger, "I wore that necklace everywhere, no matter what I had on, even if it didn't match. I remember dressing up like Florence Nightingale, in a white outfit and a nurse's cap that my mother had given me, but I still would wear that pink necklace with it. I really always thought I would grow up to be a nurse. I loved to pretend I was working in a hospital and I would wrap up all my family with bandages… you know… for practice."

When Ginger mentioned the bandages, Mr. Howell was thinking back to the ladies' attempts to learn first aid by practicing on the men. They had all ended up with their arms in a sling. If it came down to a career decision between nursing and acting, he inwardly decided, _I do believe she chose wisely_. He did not comment on this of course. He just raised his eyebrows, nodded his head and smiled as she continued.

"When I would wrap up my 'patients' I would sing to them too. Everyone said I had a great voice, and that just encouraged me to practice my singing. I would stand in front of the mirror as I sang different songs. I loved my little nursing outfit, but I would look at my necklace more than anything else. I would blow a kiss to the mirror and try different voices."

Mary Ann smiled, as she knew Ginger still did this on a daily basis as she sat at the vanity in their hut.

"One night my father was watching me and joked that I should be an actress instead of a nurse. That had never occurred to me before, but it made perfect sense. From then on I only wanted to be an actress. I would twirl my necklace around and try to be other types of characters. Every type. From country girls like the ones from Li'l Abner to the rich, beautiful, movie stars I would see on the big screen. I would pretend my little beads were pearls or diamonds, and I would imagine that someday I would make enough money to buy a real necklace..."

The Professor was listening with a warm smile on his face, reflecting on the many times Ginger had volunteered to be his lab assistant, and how she loved dressing up to look the part. Especially touching to him had been the time when he had happened upon her in the jungle, contemplating her decisions in life as they faced what they thought would be their eminent and untimely end due to an incoming missile. She had been questioning whether she should have pursued a career in nursing. However, as she told her tale about her beaded necklace, it reaffirmed in his head what he had told her on that occasion. She was able to help people by entertaining them. Perhaps she would have made a suitable nurse, he thought to himself, but judging by the way she was captivating the others with this simple tale, acting was obviously her true calling.

Ginger was bringing her story to what seemed like an obvious conclusion – that she became a famous actress and bought a diamond or pearl necklace. However she continued, "…but I never was able to afford one."

"But you're a movie star, Ginger!" stated Gilligan, somewhat in disbelief.

"That's true Gilligan, but being an actress doesn't quite pay what you think it would. Why do you think I had a roommate? Between headshots and gowns and makeup, there wasn't a lot of money left over. Sure, I was able to buy some diamond earrings, and a ring or two, but never anything like I used to dream I would have. Remember? Before our shipwreck I was scheduled to play Cleopatra in the Broadway production of "Pyramid for Two" and I'm sure that would have been the role that brought me the fame and the money I would have needed to live a different kind of life," replied Ginger as she stared off wistfully in thought.

But she allowed herself only a moment to dwell on her lost career, as she wanted to display the gift as the grand conclusion to her story. By this point, most of those sitting around the table were assuming that the box Ginger was now clutching in her hands contained a necklace of some sort, but they were not prepared for what they were about to see.

"That's why Mrs. Howell's present is so incredibly special," stated Ginger, as she slowly opened the box so that all around the table could see its contents. Her eyes met those of Mrs. Howell, who was the only other person at the table who knew exactly where Ginger's story was leading. As the others uttered a collective gasp, Mrs. Howell just gave Ginger a little wink.

Inside the box was a beautiful necklace with several small, glistening diamonds, but also a larger pink stone in the center.

As everyone leaned in to get a closer look, some knew exactly what that pink stone was, but others were confused and were guessing it was a type of faded ruby, rose quartz, or perhaps even a beautifully cut piece of glass. That last guess evoked a strong response from an indignant millionaire.

"Glass! Indeed! Do you think a Howell would ever be caught sporting mere costume jewelry? Clearly it is a pink diamond," stated Mr. Howell firmly.

"I didn't know diamonds could be pink," Gilligan stated simply.

The Skipper and Mary Ann also looked a bit skeptical.

"Actually, pink diamonds are quite real," the Professor stated. Launching into a brief history of the formation of diamonds, he continued, "You see, it is believed that that diamonds were formed millions of years ago when carbon bearing rocks deep beneath the earth's surface were put under immense pressure then heated up to an extreme temperature. The pressure and heat caused the carbon molecules to dramatically rearrange. When the temperature reduced, and other contributing factors such as pressure and chemistry were right, the carbon atoms bonded to build diamond crystals."

The Professor could see the usual lost look on the faces of most around the table – a look he encountered many a time when he gave scientific explanations. So, he cut to the chase, at least in his mind. He explained the reason a diamond could show a particular color by adding, "If an element interacts with the carbon atoms during a diamond's creation, the diamond's color can change. Both radiation and pressure on a diamond's structure will also impact its color. Thus the formation of a pink diamond is caused simply by an imperfection in the crystal lattice of the diamond."

Seeing the look of horror in the eyes of Mr. Howell when he used the word "imperfection" the Professor immediately rephrased to make it more palatable by adding, "or perhaps one might say, _aberration _to the crystal lattice, thus making it more rare, and undoubtedly more expensive."

Mr. Howell was quick to agree to that last point.

"Well, I don't care how it was made," proclaimed Ginger. "I just think it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Who would have thought that here, on this deserted island, I would be given such an exquisite gift… a real pink diamond!"

"Just like one of your pink beads, right Ginger?" interjected Gilligan.

"Yes..." Ginger said, admiring the necklace, and started to cry once again. "Mrs. Howell, I don't know what to say…"

"There is nothing that needs to be said," replied the heiress with full grace. "I wanted you to have it, and I'm extremely pleased to have made such a fortuitous choice. Happy anniversary dear," said Mrs. Howell with much love and a beautiful smile.

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!" all the rest repeated together.

As a little hubbub developed while Gilligan helped Ginger with the clasp of the necklace and the Skipper stood and Mary Ann and leaned in, each to get a better look, Mr. Howell took the opportunity to pull his wife in closer and whisper a quiet protest.

"Lovey, how could you? That necklace is worth a fortune!"

"Now Thurston, you know very well that the jewelry box that I gave Mary Ann is worth just as much, and I didn't hear you making of fuss about that!"

"Yes, but that was from the Wentworth fortune. This was a Howell purchase," was his reply.

"Well, never mind that dear. After all, it's _only_ money."

"Ooo Lovey, what you said!"

"Hush, Thurston," demanded his wife in a tone that her husband recognized all too well.

The powerful Thurston Howell the Third knew that once his wife had made up her mind on a matter, there was no point in arguing further. She was quite a little spitfire at times, and he always admired her for that, so he acquiesced with a meek but loving, "Yes, dear."

That brought their little side conversation to a firm end and they turned their faces back toward the group, adding their smiles to the happiness of the moment.

Most at the table were still abuzz about the necklace and how it amazingly coincided with Ginger's anniversary story. Mary Ann, however, had grown quiet. She was sitting in her seat, admiring Ginger and how glamorous she looked - even more so now with that stunning pink diamond around her neck. Her smiled faded slightly, and her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. She had been thinking that she could finally relate to her roommate, but as it turned out, Ginger always had a strong and intriguing personality, even from her childhood… and her story was so life altering. Mr. and Mrs. Howell's had been as well. She thought of the story she had picked out to share, and it was seeming more and more insignificant and silly, and she wondered if she should share it at all.

This slightly disconcerted look did not go unnoticed by the Professor, who was seated directly across from her. He was well aware that Mary Ann still felt inferior to the other ladies on the island, despite the very vital role she played in their community. During the time he spent with her as they prepared for the beauty contest they held years before, and she had shared her insecurities. They had faded slightly over time, but he could see by the look on her face that she was wanting to slide into the background as Ginger garnered much attention. He was just about to mention something, when another spoke up on her behalf…


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6 – A MOMENT FOR MARY ANN

The men seated closest to Ginger were still admiring her necklace, one a little too enthusiastically in her opinion. There were indeed occasions, few and far between, when Thurston Howell the Third got so wrapped up in momentum of events that, for a fleeting moment, he forgot that he was not the youthful and unfettered bachelor he once was, free to charm all the young ladies he wished with his dashing smile and debonair ways. All it usually took was a stern glance from his loving wife to snap him back to his proper poise and sensibilities. However, Mrs. Howell gave her husband no such look that evening. She just said, directly yet graciously, "Mary Ann, dear, why don't you share your story with us next?"

There was more motivating her in this instance than just a simple refocusing of her husband's attentions. The fine lady had been looking across the table at the little farm girl, now bedecked with the tiny ruby earrings. They brought just enough of a precious touch to add some glamour to her fresh, youthful appearance. She looked lovely. However, something was amiss. Mrs. Howell was a keen observer of human behavior, and was quite adept at picking up on the subtleties of such. This is what made her the veritable queen of the social scene back home. As thrilled as she was that she had chosen such a wonderful gift for Ginger, she had also been careful to keep her eyes on Mary Ann while the movie star was telling her tale. Since she was aware of the contents of Ginger's gift box, her mind was not laboring over where her tale was leading, and she was thus free to keep observing all seated at the table with less distraction. Even though she never had children of her own, Mrs. Howell certainly was in possession of a great motherly instinct and felt it her duty to look out for the emotional welfare of all the younger castaways. She had specifically chosen gifts for the girls which would be equal in monetary value, so neither would feel slighted or saddened in any way on this festive occasion. Therefore, when she noticed Mary Ann's demeanor slipping ever so slightly, Mrs. Howell knew the time was right to turn the floor over to her.

When the heiress spoke, Mary Ann looked across at Mrs. Howell and was greeted with a beautiful smile and twinkling eyes. How much she appreciated her loving watch care.

Ginger, who had been basking in the glory of the beautiful necklace, and loving the attention she was receiving, had no problem taking the cue from Mrs. Howell's words. She turned in her seat and looked over at her friend who was still smiling, but had indeed grown quiet. True, Mary Ann was not one that Ginger would have rubbed elbows with had they not taken that fateful cruise, but over the years they had grown closer. They definitely had their differences, and were quite vocal when expressing them at times, but in reality, Mary Ann had become like a little sister to her, and she didn't want to overshadow her that evening, or for her to lose spirit on that happy occasion.

"Oh yes, that's enough about me," Ginger insisted. Addressing her friend she said enthusiastically, "Go on Mary Ann. Please go next. I can't wait to hear your story!"

Before she had a chance to reply, there was an excited outburst from the first mate.

"I'll bet I know what it is!" exclaimed Gilligan. He knew Mary Ann well, having spent much time talking with her during their various island adventures over the years, so he thought he would attempt a few guesses.

"Was it when you caught that purple butterfly? Or the first time you baked a pie? Or when you won that blue ribbon at the county fair? Or maybe when you…"

"Gilligan, will you be quiet and let Mary Ann talk!" directed the Skipper firmly.

Gilligan was actually glad that the Skipper had stopped him before he said much else. He really did want Mary Ann to be able to tell her story the way she wished, just like all the others had a chance to do, but sometimes his enthusiasm just got the best of him. His shoulders dropped a bit, frustrated with himself that he had let his excitement override his manners.

"That's all right Skipper," said Mary Ann to the captain, and then, not wanting anyone to feel bad, she leaned forward and looked down the table to address and reassure the first mate, "and those were all really good guesses Gilligan..."

Her words worked, and a smile returned to Gilligan's face and he sat up straight again. Content to stop his guessing game, he waited for her to continue.

"…but I picked something different for my anniversary. It's not really a great story compared to the ones Mr. and Mrs. Howell and Ginger just shared..." she said, hesitating to continue. It wasn't that she was afraid of her fellow castaways by any means. They all really were like family. It was just those old insecurities kicking in. She had no problem speaking her mind when she had an opinion. However, as much as she wished she could be more like Ginger, the outgoing, vivacious crowd pleaser, she just didn't feel completely comfortable when she was the center of attention.

As everyone urged her on, she looked around the table at their faces. The Professor's reassuring and calming smile, Mrs. Howell's greatly animated face and gloved hands raised and poised in excitement, Mr. Howell's eyebrows elevated in anticipation, the broad smile and excited look the Skipper was projecting and Gilligan, sitting there with that silly grin that always made her smile. Ginger was smiling too, and urged her on once again saying, "Come on honey. We're dying to know what you have to share!"

"Okay," acquiesced Mary Ann. She took a deep breath and let it out, inwardly shaking off her nerves. "Well…" she began, "the barn needed a new roof so…"

As Mary Ann began her story, the opening words set off a variety of emotions in all those seated around the table that night. Although years had passed since they were marooned on that island, Mary Ann still possessed the distinction of being the youngest of the castaways. Time had matured her to be sure, but she had managed to sustain that youthful exuberance and sunny disposition that they had all come to treasure in this little traveler from Kansas. Over time, each had developed their own special relationship with her, so as she spoke, memories melded with her words as each visualized the events she described.

"…my Uncle George and some of the farm hands picked a day and started the job. I remember rushing through my chores and running over to the side of the barn to see if they would let me help."

As soon as Mary Ann mentioned wanting to help put a new roof on a barn, the Skipper's smile warmed even more. _That sounds just like our Mary Ann – always wanting to help, _he reflected to himself. He thought back to their earliest days on the island when he was laying out plans for a group hut. There stood Mary Ann looking up at him in the clothes she borrowed from Mrs. Howell after a drenching rain. Her little face was peeking out from a big floppy hat and she was offering to help. He didn't think the ladies could be of much assistance for a construction project, but he was greatly appreciative that she had been the first to offer to pitch in, and that she had done so with such great enthusiasm. That day had pretty much set the image of her that the Skipper held in his mind and heart when he contemplated his young passenger and fellow castaway, Mary Ann Summers – eager to help, always ready to work. Now, as she began her story, he could completely envision Mary Ann as a child, running around a barn, eager to offer assistance.

Mary Ann related to the group that none of the men back on the farm would permit her to climb the ladder up to the barn roof, but they allowed her to pick up all the debris that they were throwing to the ground.

"I was not very strong, and there was a lot to pick up, so I got a wheelbarrow and filled it up with as much as I could, and made a lot of trips to the trash heap. That's all I did for the rest of that first day. Back and forth, back and forth until it was time for evening chores. I did the same thing every day after that until the new roof was finished. It wasn't very exciting work, but I really wanted to help. I remember my arms and legs were so sore, but I didn't want to give up until I picked every last shingle and nail that had fallen to the ground."

At those words, Mr. Howell, who had not been terribly interested in anything having to do with work on a farm, but who had paid attention anyway for the sake of Mary Ann, flashed back to the time that foolish kidnapper, Mr. Wiley, had made sport of capturing the women, demanding exorbitant ransoms for their safe return. Of course he had willingly laid down the money for the return of his dear wife Lovey, and then Mary Ann and Ginger in turn. The portion of the events which stuck out most in his mind at the time, aside from the money and possessions he lost, was Mary Ann thanking him effusively, and vowing to repay every single penny. As impossible a task as that would be, she seemed so determined. Now, as he listened to her relating her story, and pictured her picking up every last nail from the roofing extravaganza she was describing, he knew, had his wife not immediately dismissed the offer, she really would have attempted to pay him back, every last penny. Of course he certainly would not have really tried to extract such an amount from the dear girl, but the word "repay" certainly soothed his soul, as did the phrase, "every last penny." A smile appeared on his face. The smile emanated both from an admiration of Mary Ann's determination and resoluteness as well as a vision he was having of a stack of crisp, clean, neatly piled up bills totaling the tidy sum of twenty thousand dollars.

Mrs. Howell, meanwhile, had been trying to keep a positive look on her face, while inwardly she was horrified at the thought of a young lady working to the point of exhaustion, handling filthy, discarded materials, straining feminine muscles to the limits. Certainly she personally had experienced nothing of the kind growing up. Honestly, aside from the efforts toward the building of the huts on the island, Mrs. Howell had no idea what the construction or repair of large structures would encompass, and was slightly lost during Mary Ann's tale. She did not know what some of the materials were that she was referring to, but kept her smile intact, and her full attention in order. Thus when she heard Mary Ann's next words, she placed one gloved hand to her chest in disbelief.

"When the roof was done, FINALLY my uncle said I could come up and take a look if I wanted to, so I headed up the ladder."

"But, Mary Ann," Gilligan interjected, "you don't like heights!" He knew how nervous she got every time he scrambled up a coconut tree. He could hear those familiar words even now as they sat there. With a voice filled with worry she would plead, _"Oh Gilligan, please be careful!"_ Then she would always turn away or hide her eyes. He had offered to teach her to climb those tall branchless trees many a time, as he found it to be quite easy once he got the hang of it, but she always refused. Thinking of the height of the barns he had seen around his own hometown growing up, Gilligan was shocked to think that Mary Ann would want to be sitting atop one of them. He was more surprised still to think that this was the anniversary that she wanted to celebrate. It seemed more of a scary memory than a happy one.

"That's true, but at the time, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. I had been watching the men walk around up there for over a week, and they seemed like they were just walking around on the ground, so I figured I would be fine once I got up there."

Ginger had been listening to her friend, and she too was surprised. She knew Mary Ann to be a hard worker for sure, and she had seen her do some pretty brave things around the island over the years, but she knew how frightened she could get as well.

"Did you make it all the way up to the top, Mary Ann?" Ginger asked.

"Well, yes, I did, and I took a few steps across the new roof… but it was MUCH higher than it seemed from the ground, and much steeper than I thought. I remember being so afraid! I just sat down and didn't move. I thought for sure if I took a step, why… I would tumble right over the edge!" she explained, gesturing descriptively, trying to convey the horrifying plunge she felt would ensue.

"So, did you go right back down the ladder?" asked Gilligan, now guessing inwardly that this must have been the incident that led Mary Ann to develop this particular fear of hers.

"No. I was too afraid to move," she said, her voice cracking a bit as she felt the emotions that were attached to the memory. "My uncle stood there on the ladder and held his hand out to me, but I was too scared. I just sat there. So after a few minutes, he told me that since I was the one that was begging to go up there, I was just going to have to get myself over to that ladder and come down on my own."

"Don't tell me he just left you up there…" said Ginger, hoping that she was guessing wrong. She had started to put herself in her roommate's place and she didn't think she would be too happy to be in that situation. She was sure her own father would not have left her in such a spot, and Ginger began to realize, even more so than before, what a different life Mary Ann led as a child.

"Yes, he did. I saw him go down the ladder. Since I couldn't move, I couldn't see where he went. I just assumed he went back to the house, and I started to cry."

Ginger let out a little gasp and Mrs. Howell looked mortified.

The Professor sat up a little straighter and raised his eyebrows high in dismay. _Good heavens! _he thought to himself. He did not know much about women, but he knew they were to be taken care of and looked out for. He was shocked at the apparently irresponsible, and certainly ungentlemanly, behavior displayed by Mary Ann's uncle and the other men who had been present there on that farm. He kept his emotions in check though, and did not give voice to his opinions. Instead, he waited to see what Mary Ann would reveal next.

The Skipper, however, did speak. His smile had disappeared and he felt anger well up within him. _How could any man be so cold as to leave a little girl stranded like that?_ he thought with outrage. "Now, that's just not right!" he proclaimed in disbelief.

Gilligan, seated next to him, noticed his captain's hand had formed into a fist. The Skipper was always in a protective mode, looking out for everyone. Even at the mere mention of a possible injustice that took place long ago, the stalwart captain was ready to come to the defense of a small damsel in distress.

Mary Ann was a little surprised at the reactions she was getting from that part of her story. Back home on the farm, life was a little rough, but everyone, young or old, was expected to pull their weight and handle whatever came their way without complaining. It never occurred to her for things to be any other way. She loved her family and knew they meant no harm by the way they treated her. She tried to quickly allay the concerns of her fellow castaways as she was just getting to the highlight of her tale.

"Actually, Skipper, it worked out for the best," replied Mary Ann reassuringly. Her face started to break into a smile as she reflected back on the events that came next. She continued, "When I stopped crying and calmed down, I lifted my head up and looked around. I felt like I could see for miles. The fields, the buildings far off, the cows in the pasture... I felt like I was on top of the world, and I was admiring everything. But the best part came next. I looked across the sky and I saw something that I didn't even know existed."

"What was it, dear girl?" asked Mrs. Howell, who was now more intrigued than indignant.

"It was an ENTIRE rainbow!" Mary Ann said with glee. She continued on with her description. "Not the normal rainbow that I had seen so many times before after a rainstorm, but a full circle, with all the same colors, but completely round and completely in the sky. It was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen," said Mary Ann. Her big brown eyes were sparkling from the light of the torches as she looked skyward, inwardly picturing the sight she was describing. Her shoulders were up, and her hands were clasped together in excitement.

"Why, Mary Ann, that's amazing! Sightings of circular rainbows are quite rare!" the Professor exclaimed excitedly.

"You mean there really is such a thing?" asked Ginger innocently.

The Skipper was wondering the same thing. He didn't want to doubt Mary Ann, but in all his years, he had never seen anything close to what she was describing, and was guessing maybe the light had played tricks on her eyes or something that day.

"Most certainly," answered the Professor. "It is indeed possible to see the whole circle of a rainbow, but the circumstances have to be just right. Specific atmospheric conditions must be present. You see, when sunlight and raindrops combine to make a rainbow, they can make a whole circle of light in the sky. But it's a very rare sight. Even if the sky conditions are just right, the bottom part of a full-circle rainbow is usually blocked by the horizon. That's why we see rainbows not as circles, but as arcs across our sky. However there is also something referred to as a circumzenithal arc which is an ethereal rainbow of sorts, wrapped around its zenith and not caused by the refraction and reflection of water droplets at all. That too is very seldom seen as a complete circle, although such an occurrence is indeed possible."

Getting caught up in his explanation, he started talking more to himself than to anyone else… "Or it could also have been a circumscribed halo. That is typically a brightly colored oval around the sun and is tangential to…"

At that point in his dissertation on the subject, the Professor redirected his gaze back over to Mary Ann. She sat there smiling and paying rapt attention as she always did when he would launch into one of his scientific explanations. How much her attentiveness had always encouraged him through the years when he tried to explain matters of import to the group, and how often that smile of hers provided the validation and support he needed. However, it occurred to him at that moment that his scientific lecturing was just as obtrusive and distracting as Mr. Howell's financially based fixations and insertions. Since he did not want to rob Mary Ann of her moment, he paused slightly and let his words take a different route.

"…uh…but what is even more important is that you were able to witness such a beautiful sight," he said, smiling at her warmly. Trying to redirect the attention back to her, the man of science continued, "Mary Ann, might I ask, how long did this phenomenon last?"

"Not very long at all," she said with a disappointed tone. "I knew rainbows usually faded very quickly, so when I saw it, I wanted to get down as fast as possible so I could get everyone to see that perfect rainbow. That was actually what gave me the courage to inch over to the ladder to get off the roof. When I got to the edge and looked down, why - there was my Uncle George, leaning on the barn right next to the ladder!" she said with a big smile.

A few around the table looked decidedly relieved to learn Mary Ann had not been left alone after all, but did not interrupt her as they wanted to find out more about this spectacular sight she had seen.

She continued, "Even though I scrambled down as quickly as I could, I wasn't fast enough. By the time I reached my uncle and looked back up to the sky, it had faded so much that no one else could see it. In fact, no one on the farm believed that I saw it at all," Mary Ann continued, crossing her arms as she recalled the frustration she felt. "They all told me there was no such thing as a circle rainbow, and they just wouldn't believe me - even after I went to the library and looked it up!"

"Well, we believe you Mary Ann," said Gilligan. Then, after thinking for a moment he continued, "Hey… maybe that's why you are always so sweet and cheerful."

His comment was met with wrinkled brows and confused faces, so explained, "You know how rainbows make people happy, right? Well, since Mary Ann saw a WHOLE rainbow when she was young, maybe that made her an EXTRA happy person."

"I don't know about that Gilligan," Mary Ann answered back, "but I do know that it made me really happy that day. When I was cutting up the fruit and vegetables earlier today, and saw all the colors there across the table, it reminded me of that happy moment, and I decided that is what I wanted to share with everyone as my anniversary."

"Well folks," said the Skipper as he looked around the table, "we certainly are learning a lot of new things tonight! First pink diamonds and now circles of rainbows! Mary Ann, I think that's a wonderful memory to celebrate," he affirmed with a hearty smile. "Allow me to be the first to say 'Happy Anniversary' to our little sweetheart!"

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY," the others all said together as one, and then they clapped in unison as well. Mary Ann, blushing slightly, smiled back appreciatively at the group.

When the clapping died down, Mister Howell felt the need for a little more discussion.

"Now Mary Ann dear, where exactly would the pot of gold be this circle rainbow arrangement?" he asked in his drawn out, cheeky millionaire accent.

"Oh, Mr. Howell…" said Mary Ann, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

"Is that all you can ever think about Mr. Howell? Gold?" asked the Skipper.

"Why, of course not," said the millionaire indignantly. "Sometimes I think about platinum instead." Another large dreamy smile spread across his face.

The Skipper just rolled his eyes.

That was enough of a distraction to derail the story-telling portion of the evening's festivities one again and those seated at the table began discussing various things amongst themselves. The Skipper and Mr. Howell were arguing about the validity of the 'gold at the end of the rainbow' idea and Ginger was trying to think up ways to work the idea of a full rainbow into a movie. Gilligan was listening to Ginger's ideas, but his stomach was starting to growl again, so he was secretly thinking of a giant circle of a rainbow hovering over the real prize on the ground – a chocolate covered hamburger. Mary Ann was reciting the various colors that make up a rainbow to Mrs. Howell, who was, in turn, trying to associate them with various gems as a memory aid.

The Professor, however, refrained from joining in any of these discussions as he was still contemplating the scientific marvel that Mary Ann had witnessed. He was impressed she also had the wherewithal to pursue additional information to confirm what she had seen. He often wondered where Mary Ann's life would have taken her, had they not been shipwrecked long ago. He was amazed at her culinary skills. It was not just that she was a good cook - which she certainly was - but she displayed what he felt was an amazing ingenuity with the substitute ingredients she was able to locate and integrate into her recipes. Possibly, had she had access to further schooling, she could have done well in science based career - perhaps chemistry he postulated. Those thoughts triggered memories of his own schooling and he was so caught up in those memories that he did not notice the others had quieted down and were calling his name.

"Professor? I say, Professor… it's your turn to share your anniversary tale, my good man," said Mr. Howell.

"My apologies. I was lost in thought," was the Professor's response.

Now that his turn had arrived, he was torn. Earlier that day, he had decided to share a certain memorable event from his past. He felt it fit the occasion, and it did indeed give him a very real sense of happiness that he not only wanted to relive, but also desired to share with the group. However, the story leading up to the moment he wished to commemorate involved elements he had never spoken of with the others, and that is what was fueling his inner debate.

With each passing castaway's story, he found himself saddening slightly and he wondered whether or not he should share his intended tale, or just throw out some generic achievement instead so that the group would quickly move on to someone else. He just sat there for a moment, trying to reach a decision. He concluded that it was finally time to take down the wall to his heart that kept him somewhat separated from the others.

"It has often been said that nothing keeps us as lonely as our secrets…" stated the Professor in a serious tone. He paused for just a moment and then continued "… so I have decided to share something with you all this evening that I have purposefully chosen not to speak about until now."

As the others looked at him in anticipation, he rose to his feet, looking as though he had the weight of the world upon him.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7 – BOTANY AT ITS BEST

"Professor, are you all right?" asked a concerned Skipper. "You've been very quiet this evening."

It was true that, aside from his small outbursts to add some scientific context during the girl's stories, he had said very little during their dinner celebration. The Professor was serious-minded to be sure, but he was usually as cheerful and good-spirited as the rest of the group, especially at festive occasions. The captain could tell something was troubling him.

"I assure you, I'm fine. I suppose I have been a bit melancholy perhaps…" replied the Professor. However he was cut off by a question from Gilligan before he could complete his sentence.

"What kind of melon is that Professor? Does it even grow on the island?"

As the Skipper's eyes went rolling skyward, the Professor simply splayed one arm across his chest and rested his other arm atop it, touching his hand to his chin contemplatively. He never knew quite to what to make of the first mate. He found him a fascinating character study, to say the least. He pondered over what could have prompted that question. Gilligan often made remarks that seemed overtly out of place, yet at other times he was able to come up with conclusions which evidenced he had a mind that moved swiftly and directly to the point. Sometimes his comments were of a purely inquisitive nature, while at other times they seemed to be almost purposefully diversionary.

The Professor looked at the young sailor and wondered, _Is this a simple unfamiliarity with my vocabulary choice? Was he not paying attention and only caught part of the word? _The scent of cooling pies was indeed wafting through the air._ Is his hunger getting the best of him and he really is hoping that I'm referring to something that is possibly part of an upcoming dessert? Or … is he trying to counteract the palpable tension I have caused by my somber tone? _He knew that Gilligan had often sacrificed himself up in the past, intentionally or unintentionally, as a comic fodder of sorts, thereupon making serious situations more lighthearted. _Is that what he is doing right now perhaps? _

The Professor did not know what Gilligan's motivations were, however he was immensely relieved by the question. It allowed him to detach himself from the feelings that were currently overwhelming him, extract himself from the situation somewhat, and slip into his teacher mode. He felt so much more comfortable dispensing information than discussing matters of a more personal nature. Ever patient when he launched into his role as an educator, the Professor calmly replied, "Melancholy is a feeling Gilligan, not a fruit. It means to feel a bit sad."

"Oh. Sorry Professor," Gilligan replied, looking down slightly. "Tonight's party was supposed to cheer everybody up, not make anyone feel bad."

"No, no. That's quite all right..." the Professor replied, waiving hand to reassuringly dismiss any culpability on Gilligan's part. "This evening has been a truly joyous occasion. My sadness is emanating from things that transpired long before we were marooned here on this island – things I normally choose not to think of or speak about. Today, however, it was as if long closed floodgates were opened, and I have been virtually inundated with memories of a former time. Since I have never given voice to these particular matters, I feel internally overwhelmed," explained the Professor, almost diagnosing himself and the workings of his mind for the benefit of the other castaways. His studies in the field of psychology had led him to much self-analysis over the years. He could define his emotional paralysis, and even understand what was needed to resolve long-standing issues, yet alone he felt powerless to implement these remedies.

He could see the pained and confused looks on the faces of his fellow castaways, and he was struggling with how to continue.

_The shortest distance between two points is a straight line… so the direct approach is clearly the wisest course of action,_ he reasoned. Therefore, he thought it best to just define the subject at hand, and hope the words would come to him once the inevitable questions began.

"I have been thinking about my family…" stated the Professor.

There was silence around the table. Though a veritable fountain of information on most topics, they all knew the Professor to be a very private man when it came to his personal life. He had never discussed anything about his family, or really named anyone he knew or had dealings with back on the mainland, aside from that one acquaintance they amazingly all had in common – Randolph Blake. The other castaways respected his privacy and never questioned him. Now, after all these years, he was finally bringing up the subject.

Usually this would have been when Gilligan would blurt out something, but even he was too stunned to speak. The Skipper and Mr. Howell were also at a loss for words. This was a sensitive subject, and clearly needed a woman's touch.

Mary Ann had a soothing, non-threatening way about her. This was not exactly like the situation where she had to coax the young jungle boy out of the woods and into their company, but it certainly was time for a similar gentle voice and extension of an open heart. So she spoke the simple, kind words they were all wanting to say.

"Please tell us about them, Professor," she gently implored.

As he looked around the table, the concern he felt radiating from the sincere looks in all their eyes empowered him to continue. He slowly sat back down in his seat, comfortable enough to speak to his friends face to face.

"Well, I… that is to say, we… we lost my father when I was rather young. Mother was left to care for me and my younger brothers all alone," he began.

"You have brothers, Professor?" asked Gilligan, finally having the courage to re-enter the conversation.

"I… um… I… had two younger brothers. Alan and Robert. Well, Robert was his given name, but the family called him Bobbie."

The Skipper saw that his friend was nervous and struggling, so he carefully tried to help him, raising the next obvious question as delicately as he knew how.

"Professor, you said you _had_ two brothers. Did something happen to them?" the he asked tentatively.

"Well, times were very difficult after we lost our father. Mother was ill, and we were quite poor. Three young boys were too much for my mother to handle, both physically and financially. So, Alan was sent off to live with some distant relatives, and friends of the family were able to take Bobbie in. I was able to stay with Mother for a few years after that. But eventually I too was sent away, and had to live at a boarding school of sorts. I was able to return home during summer months and spend time with Mother, but sadly we lost all contact with my brothers and the families that took them in.

The other castaways were shocked. Some had been assuming that the Professor came from a family of academics, sequestered in a middle class home, traumatized only by differing opinions among other well-schooled relatives. He wasn't very good at domestic chores, so it was also assumed that he was brought up in a very traditional family setting, with a mother caring for the home and a father heading the household. No one among them would have dreamed of the reality he was now sharing with them.

The Professor looked across the table. Tears were welling up in Mary Ann's eyes and Ginger was swallowing hard trying not cry. The corner of his eye caught Mrs. Howell beside him, reaching for her handkerchief. He had to look away from the ladies, lest his own tears should start to flow.

He cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. The Professor, in reality, was a man of deep emotion. Years of scientific pursuits had not erased that facet of his personality, but they had given him the advantage of a broadened viewpoint. He was able to meld rational thinking in with his emotions and that was what enabled him to rise above his difficult childhood.

"Oh, Professor… I'm so sorry…" said Mary Ann, continuing to take the lead in handling this emotional revelation. She too had sadly experienced loss of close family members at an age too young and tender. "Do you remember much from your time with your brothers? Are there any happy memories that you can share with us?" she asked with as much of a smile as she could muster. One teardrop had fallen down her cheek but she quickly wiped it away, trying to not let herself drown in the pain the Professor must have been feeling.

"Well, actually, I do have some memories clearly intact from those early years," said the Professor, the tension and strain in his face lessening a bit.

He continued, "Even though we were separated when quite young, I have the fondest memories of them. We spent much time indulging in the typical youthful tomfoolery and playacting. I recall that we were in possession of a single toy sheriff's star. My brother Alan insisted on always playing the role of sheriff, or at times the chief of police, and Bobbie always wanted to be his deputy. They insisted I play the role of the bad guy – the rouge cowboy or the gangster. I would argue that I was the eldest, so I should be the law enforcer, but I would always cave in to their earnest entreaties. I simply could not say 'no' to them." A small smile crossed the Professor's face as he recalled their joy when he would acquiesce to their wishes.

Ginger was immediately reminded of the many times the Professor had been dead set against a certain course of action, but how he would somehow always give in if one or more of the castaways really pleaded with him. She remembered him crawling around that dark, tiny little cave for her, in search of that wishing stone Gilligan had lost. Knowing full well his serious nature, and the irritation he felt over that whole situation at the time, she was surprised that he not only went along with her requests that day, but also at the faces he was making as he submitted to her directives to think like a bat, and then like a mole. Now, as he spoke of his brothers, she wondered how many hours he must have spent entertaining them and playing make-believe.

The Skipper was smiling inwardly at the idea of the Professor always playing the bad guy in those games with his brothers. _He's such a nice guy. It's hard to picture him in the role of the heavy, _the captain thought to himself.

Gilligan's imagination was going wild thinking of all the things the Professor and his brothers must have done together. He never pictured him running around, acting like a regular kid. He thought he must have been always sitting in a corner, thinking and writing equations in a notebook or something. He was now viewing him in a whole new light. _I wonder if he read comic books when he was a kid. Did he even own a comic book back then? He must have! I'll have to pick out one of my favorites and give it to the Professor tomorrow._ He started running through the titles of his prized collection that he had stacked up back in his hut, trying to decide which would be most to the Professor's liking.

Mr. Howell's thoughts were off in a completely different direction. Perhaps he was not much for manual labor, but he was in possession of other skills. When it came to making money, it was as if he had a green thumb. However his expansion of the family fortune did not come without effort. He was a man of action, always able to come up with the right angle or the right strategy. When confronted with a crisis on Wall Street he would meet it head on, hitting upon a solution and implementing it with immediacy and gusto. He was limited on the island to be sure, but that did not stop him from planning ahead, both for financial gain and personal projects.

"Professor, I assure you that when we return to civilization, it shall be my first order of business to track down your brothers, wherever they might be," declared Mr. Howell with great determination.

"While I greatly appreciate the sentiment Mr. Howell, I don't think much can be done at this point. I did all I could to find them when I reached adulthood, but I was unsuccessful. Unfortunately very few records were kept at the time. I'm sure that any trails leading to their whereabouts must have long ago grown cold," he concluded.

All he really had was a single photograph of himself and his two brothers. They were standing in a make-shift pool of sorts, with water about knee high, and all three of them had great smiles of laughter on their faces. As much as he treasured that photo, he didn't think it would be enough to provide any assistance with a search.

"You have no idea what can be accomplished with the right connections and right resources, my good man," countered the millionaire. "I promise you, I shall not rest until we have located them."

The Professor, and everyone else at the table, knew Mr. Howell to be sincere in his intent. Under that business-like exterior, and despite all his blustering, he had a heart that was truer than twenty-four carat gold. He did not like to reveal this softer side of himself, known previously only to his dear wife and closest of friends back home, but his cover was pretty much blown there on the island the night that Teddy made his first appearance.

"Well, then, your assistance would be very much appreciated. Thank you Mr. Howell," was the Professor's grateful response. Mr. Howell's scheming and strategizing, while sometimes unwelcome, had indeed come in handy over the years that they had spent on the island, and his tenacity was unmatched when he had a goal in mind. _Maybe I should not be so quick to dismiss Mr. Howell's abilities in this area, and the possibility of a successful outcome,_ he decided inwardly.

The Professor did not want to let his emotions run away with him, however, a spark of hope was reignited in his heart regarding his long lost brothers. Perhaps he really could see them again someday.

"What made you start thinking of your family today?" asked Gilligan, tremendously curious to know what it was that led the Professor down this particular path of memories.

"Actually, when I was checking on some plants in the garden today, touching one of the leaves brought to mind a moment of great joy for me - one that I thought would be good to relate at our evening celebration - and it happened to be an experience from my youth."

Now the others understood why the Professor had been pondering over thoughts of his family on that particular day. They leaned in, waiting to hear how the Professor's choice of an anniversary memory would connect to the startling information he had just shared with them.

"You see, my mother was quite unwell, as I mentioned, so during the time I had with her, she would assign me to certain tasks that she felt unable to handle physically. There were of course the various chores about the home, but one summer, she insisted I do something which, at the time, I saw no need for whatsoever."

"What was it, Professor?" asked Ginger, her eyes widening with curiosity.

"She had me plant a petunia."

"A petunia?" asked Mr. Howell, his eyebrows raised in wonderment.

"Yes, a petunia… a genus of thirty-five species of flowering plants of South American origin, of the family Solanaceae, subfamily Petunioideae. Well known members of Solanaceae in other subfamilies include Nicotianoideae, more commonly known as tobacco, and the cape gooseberry, tomato, potato, deadly nightshades and the chili pepper. The popular flower of the same name derived its epithet from the French, which took the word petun, meaning "tobacco," from a Tupi–Guarani language. An annual, most of the varieties seen in gardens are hybrids and…"

"Excuse me Professor," politely interrupted Mrs. Howell, placing one hand ever so lightly on his arm. "I believe Mr. Howell was merely expressing his surprise at your mother's request."

"Oh, yes… yes, of course," replied the Professor.

Returning to his story, he continued, "At the time, I saw no purpose in planting seeds that would not function as providers of a sustainable food source, but would only produce flowers. Nevertheless, out of respect for my mother, I complied with her request. I dutifully cared for that small plant, watering it, keeping it free from insects and the like. Each day I would notice some small change, minute as it was, and I was fascinated by the progress. I remember I would get down very close and examine the leaves, noticing the tiny lines running through them."

The Professor's eyes were sparkling as he described this memory. All the others noticed how much his countenance was brightening.

"Finally, one day, the first bud of a blossom began to appear. When the flower finally opened…" the Professor paused as the scene unfolded in his mind, "…it was like nothing I had ever seen. Again, I got very close to examine each petal. The sun hit the delicate surface and made it shimmer and sparkle like… like…" He was having difficulty finding the correct words to describe the sight. Finally he said, "…like tiny flecks of silver or dust of diamonds."

Mr. Howell suddenly became vastly more interested in this particular flower. Ginger gently touched her hand to the sparkling adornment that graced her neck, imagining a field of flowers glittering with the brilliance of a thousand diamonds. Gilligan let his eyes wander over to Mrs. Howell's gleaming tiara, focusing on it and trying to absorb the sense of what the Professor was trying to describe. Mary Ann tilted her head slightly and smiled at the description the Professor had chosen. She thought back to her Aunt Martha's beautiful flower boxes. She knew of the sparkle of the petals that he was describing, but would never have known how to convey it properly. She thought his words were perfectly well-chosen.

"Of course, I know now that what I was seeing was the result of light hitting the microscopic structural ridges within the petals. The ensuing interference patterns and intensified light waves are what produced the iridescent and exquisite coloring… but as I child, it was something that I just could not comprehend - yet I was fascinated by it. I continued to be surprised each day at the new blossoms that formed and the amazing growth of the plant itself. When I asked Mother about it, she simply told me that I should pay attention in school, as they would surely explain such matters in class. You see, up until that time, I had been a rather average student, with very little interest in anything in particular. However, looking back, that summer was a turning point in my life. All I needed was that tiny spark of interest to make me buckle down and apply myself. Once I did so, I found myself in possession of an insatiable desire to learn everything that I could."

"Your mother must have been so pleased," said Mary Ann warmly.

"That she was," said the Professor, smiling genuinely, remembering his mother's face in the audience as he received his first degree.

He thought back once more to the little petunia in front of the run-down house in a small town, planted at his mother's behest, but loved and nurtured by his own volition. "That tiny plant, in a way, is probably what motivated me to pursue a career in the sciences. Thus I felt it would be a fitting memory for me to choose to celebrate this evening."

_Such a dear man. So courteous and mannerly despite his difficult beginnings. His mother must have been an extremely wise woman… and immensely proud of him, _thought Mrs. Howell. She was feeling quite proud of him herself, and could not wait for someone else to pronounce congratulatory wishes upon him, so she said, "Professor, I think that is simply a _maaarvelous_ thing to celebrate! Please allow me to be the first to offer my felicitations and say, Happy Anniversary!" She began clapping her gloved hands together with great glee.

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!" all the others said at once, clapping along with Mrs. Howell.

The Professor smiled and felt his body relax even more. Now that he had been able to vocalize his family history for the first time, he felt like a huge weight was lifted off of him. It was becoming increasingly easier to focus on the good memories, now that he had let his friends in to help him absorb the painful ones. And that cherished memory of his mother and that small plant became all the more special since he was finally able to share it.

"Boy, Professor, I'm real glad you planted that flower that made you want to go to school and learn all that important stuff that made you into a genius."

"Well, thank you Gilligan, although I don't know if I'm worthy of such a designation. All these degrees that I have acquired, and yet I could not even patch a simple hole in a boat," he said in reply, imagining what the opinion of the general populace would be, should they ever be rescued.

"Now Professor, you can't think like that," said the Skipper in a very serious tone. "Why, if it weren't for you, I don't know if we could have survived on this island all these years! Just think about all the things you've come up with that saved our lives!" the Skipper concluded vehemently.

"And all the things that made life more palatable in this positively _uuuncivilized_ wilderness," pointed out Mr. Howell dramatically.

With those comments, all the other castaways began mentally reviewing all the wondrous inventions of the Professor. There had been so many. They started voicing some of their favorites.

In addition to the various golfing and gaming implements he was so fond of, Mr. Howell also mentioned another contraption they were endowed with, courtesy of the Professor.

"I was rather partial to the distillery that you manufactured to produce that lovely concoction we served to Lord Beasley," he stated. "For a determined teetotaler, you managed to produce a beverage that packed quite a punch!" he said with a laugh and a broad smile.

Mrs. Howell put a gloved hand her chest and rolled her eyes slightly, shuddering at the memory of that most indecorous tea party. A smile then crossed her face as she focused on a happier thought.

Scrunching up her nose with delight she said, "I much prefer another item that Professor has fashioned. I know you men are content to have smaller mirrors in your living quarters or on trees outside so you can carry out your grooming routines; however you know that I feel strongly that a ladies' dressing area is just not complete without a proper sized mirror. Therefore I was thrilled when you were able to produce a full length version for our hut, Professor."

The man of science gave Mrs. Howell a kind smile in response.

"Hey, Professor," said Gilligan, jumping into the conversation once he decided which of Professor's inventions he enjoyed the most. "How about when you made that nitroglycerin for the bomb to stop the volcano from exploding? That was really neat. And the explosion! Kaboom!" Gilligan said loudly, gesturing broadly, and coming out of his seat a bit with excitement over the memory.

"All right, Little Buddy. Settle down," said the Skipper, putting his hand on Gilligan's shoulder to keep him in his chair, lest he decide to reenact the whole scene.

"Well to me, the washing machine has been a real life saver," chimed in Mary Ann with a smile. "Oh – and of course the sewing machine!"

As the others continued to talk, the Professor silently reflected on the many other things he had come up with over the years, out of necessity. _Ah, if my colleagues could see me now, with a makeshift laboratory complete with bamboo test tubes and gourds for beakers! What would they think of my attempts to create such things as fuel for an experimental jet pack, or serums to combat the bites of deadly insects - all with components crudely extracted from our primitive island resources? Would they pronounce me innovative… or be in disbelief and declare the formulations impossible and the functionality of the devices implausible?_

He was pulled back into the conversation by Mr. Howell, who was making a further comment on how the Professor's vast knowledge was of tremendous value to their island family.

"I do believe I speak for all here this evening when I say we have become rather fond of a certain catchphrase of yours, Professor."

"What are you talking about Mr. Howell?" asked the Professor, thoroughly unaware of what the millionaire was referring too.

All the others around the table smiled and some suppressed giggles.

"Come now, everyone," he said, addressing the group. "You know what I'm speaking of. Shall we all say it together? I…"

With that Mr. Howell took his fork and held it out as if it were a conductor's baton. As if directing a well-rehearsed orchestra, his outstretched arms waved as the group all said in unison:

"… just happen to know a little something about…"

Everyone broke out into peals of laughter, including the Professor who was thoroughly amused at the realization of how often he used that phrase.

The lightheartedness had returned to the evening's proceedings. Everyone was smiling and laughing once again. The Skipper was listening to the cheerful banter and watching as his passengers carried on their normal mealtime interactions. The Professor was passing Mr. Howell the papaya juice. The girls were gathering up the leftovers and putting them all onto one plate for Gilligan.

Leaning over to his first mate, the Skipper said softly with a very pleased voice, "Look at 'em, Little Buddy. Seems like your anniversary idea was a big hit."

"Yeah. It's great," Gilligan agreed, smiling as he eyed the happy bunch at the table. "But the night is not over yet Skipper."

Standing up, Gilligan said, in a voice not as commanding as his captain, but loud enough to be heard over the chatter, "Excuse me everybody…"

When all had quieted down, he continued with a smile, "I think it's time we let the Skipper share his anniversary story."

Everyone at the table heartily agreed it was time to turn their attentions to their dear captain.

"Are you sure, Gilligan?" the Skipper asked hesitatingly. "Wouldn't you rather go next? Usually the captain goes last. "

"No, no. That's only for going down with the ship," laughed Gilligan. "Come on, Skipper."

The others all agreed.

"All right then," said the Skipper. His well-known smile appeared on his face accompanied by that far-away look he had when he dreamed of a thick juicy steak.

Gilligan sat back down in his seat, and watched closely as his captain put his right hand to the ring he always wore on his left pinky. He did this often, absent-mindedly, whenever he was thinking or worrying. But for once, as he fidgeted with that ring, he actually looked down at it and sighed a little. It was a beautiful ring, with a dark green emerald in the middle.

"I once told Gilligan that this ring has been in my family for over two hundred years. Tonight I'd like to tell you all a little about the man that passed this ring along to me, and how he gave me a gift worth much more than the stone that sits in it…"


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8 – HOOK, LINE AND SINKER

The others settled back, like little children listening to their father tell them a bedtime story. The captain had plenty of interesting tales to tell, and had shared many with his fellow castaways over the years. The one he would share tonight, they were all sure, would be his best yet.

"This ring belonged to my father…" began the Skipper. He halted mid-sentence however, concerned that his words might pain the Professor who had just shared a heart-wrenching tale. The Skipper shot a worried look down the table at his friend's face. All the others around the table did the same.

The Professor, clearly aware of what they were all thinking, gave a knowing nod and a smile toward the captain, reassuring him that all was well and that he should continue. At this, all redirected their focus back to the man seated at the head of the table.

A relieved Skipper began again. "Like I was saying, this ring belonged to my father… and Pop was quite a guy."

"What did he look like Skipper?" asked Gilligan. He always seemed to want all the details, all at once.

The Skipper was used to his first mate's barrage of questions when he was interested in a subject. He had very little patience when a crisis was afoot or when work was to be done, but at all other times he truly enjoyed the interest Gilligan displayed.

"Well, Gilligan, he was tall and had blond hair. Actually, we looked a lot alike. But he had a very different personality. He was a man of few words. He could go for hours without saying anything, but no one was ever uncomfortable with the silence. We always understood what he meant. He was a hard worker and a very busy man, but he would set aside every Saturday to spend with me."

Gilligan put his elbows on the table and rested his head on his hands, totally focused on the Skipper and his story. Gilligan loved hearing stories, ever since he was a child. When he was very young, his mother would tell him familiar fairy tales like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Cinderella, or Jack and the Beanstalk – just to distract him enough to get him to eat his food a little slower. As he got older, his sister, who had a fondness for the classics, would talk about the books she knew her little brother would like – ones that contained stories of adventure and suspense like The Three Musketeers or any of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries. He also loved it when his brother Mark would make up wild tales about things like spies on secret missions or scary sea monsters crawling out of the ocean, which the two of them would then act out with great enthusiasm with their friends. But the stories Gilligan liked the best were the ones the Skipper told. Not only were they were full of action and adventure, but they were real, and the telling was so engaging that he could envision everything vividly. Now, as the older sailor began his story with a description of his father, Gilligan tried to picture a tall, quiet man that looked a lot like his beloved captain, and a smaller version of the Skipper tagging along behind him.

"Anyway," the Skipper continued, "when I was just a boy, my father brought a present home for me one day. It was a dark green box with a handle. When I opened it, I saw that it was filled with small compartments which Pop had stocked with everything you can think of - all kinds of hooks and lures and whatnot. It was my very own tackle box, and I just loved it. Then when Saturday arrived, he took me down the road to a nearby pond for my first fishing adventure."

All around the table were smiling at the quaint scene he was describing.

"I've gotta be honest folks," continued the Skipper, "every cast was a disaster. I couldn't get the bait fastened on right, and I had a terrible time with those fishing hooks. I got them caught on everything. Then, each time I swung my pole around, I got the line all tangled in the trees behind us. "

"Hey Skipper, that sounds a lot like me!" proclaimed Gilligan with excitement.

"Yes… I guess does, doesn't it," replied the captain, letting out a little sigh of resignation at the realization.

Proceeding on, the Skipper explained, "I knew my father was getting frustrated with me, but all he would ever say was, 'Son… You can't catch fish if your bait is not in the water.'"

"A few weeks later, Pop said we were going fishing again, but we didn't head down the road to the pond like we did the first time. Mother packed us a lunch and we got into our old pick-up truck and headed away from the house and toward the shore. Pop had a friend who was a real outdoorsman. Hank… Hank Chapman I believe his name was," said the Skipper, as he put his hand to his chin, trying to remember all the details from the days of his boyhood.

"Anyway, Hank owned a small motor boat and he offered to take us out in it. I had never been in a boat before, and certainly, had never been out to sea. I was so excited. Pop kept a tight grip on me as we pulled out away from the dock. In no time at all it was just a little tiny dot behind us. When we were far enough out, Hank cut the motor and we just sat there quietly for a moment. I remember it like it was yesterday. The smell of salt in the air, the cries of the seagulls flying above us, the ocean breeze blowing through my hair, and the way that the boat rocked gently as the small ripples of water moved beneath us…"

As the Skipper paused, looking dreamily off into the night sky, remembering the sensations that flooded over him that day, the others were absorbed in their own thoughts.

Mary Ann was remembering what she felt like as the Minnow had left the dock in Honolulu. Her trip to Hawaii was her first real journey away from her landlocked home, and the day of their fateful trip was her first experience at sea. She recalled that there had been so many new sights and sounds to take in, all at once. She was overwhelmed by it all, yet thrilled at the same time. _Maybe that's how the Skipper felt too,_ she thought to herself.

Ginger had closed her eyes and was mentally placing herself aboard a small boat. She often practiced method acting exercises to boost her powers of imagination so she could convincingly play any character. Thus she could easily envision, not only being on that boat, but also feeling the breeze and the gentle waves.

After that brief pause to savor the memory of that moment, and to let the other castaways absorb that part of the story, the Skipper continued on.

"I absolutely loved being out on the water. I felt as if that is where I was meant to be – like I was born for it."

Gilligan was looking proudly at his captain. Over the years he had spent with the Skipper, he had come to know firsthand how much the man relished being at sea. The first mate had become quite fond of being out on the water as well, but he knew he could be happy anywhere – in a bustling city, a small town, or even off in the mountains somewhere. But things were different for the Skipper. Gilligan honestly couldn't picture his buddy doing anything that would take him too far away from the ocean.

"Did you catch anything, Skipper?" asked the first mate, curious for more details.

"Why, yes, I did! It's the funniest thing. Once I got away from the trees and brush and such, I had no problem casting my line out into the water. I recall we used a different kind of bait that day. Something called sand worms. I never saw such a thing – and boy did they pinch!"

"Ooo, how vulgar!" proclaimed Mr. Howell, as he jumped back a bit in his chair.

"Thurston, hush," his wife chided.

Mrs. Howell was equally repelled, but felt that etiquette dictated that she ought to keep her thoughts to herself. Inside she too was recoiling at the Skipper's words. _Worms! What nasty little creatures._ If there was one thing there on that island that she just found insupportable, it was the wildlife which invaded their huts and lurked about in the caves and jungle. The creepy, crawling creatures of various sizes, the bats, the gorillas and the monkeys. Worst of all had been the insects. They were simply unavoidable. Now the captain was discussing subterranean inhabitants. _Eeesh!_ Why anyone would want to put their hands on them was beyond her, but she supposed these were the things that must be done to put food on the table. She had never even considered how one would actually capture creatures from the water until they were marooned on that island. Oh, how much her life had changed over the past few years! _ If our friends back home could see me now, sitting at a table made from bamboo rather than mahogany, with five other people whose names would never appear on the Social Register, listening to a man discussing WORMS of all things! They would be in quite the snit to be sure,_ she thought to herself. But she had grown to love her fellow castaways, and the mortifications of her socialite friends did not carry the weight they once would have. She thus continued to listen to the captain speak with all politeness, setting aside the unnerving affronts to her delicate sensibilities.

The Skipper ignored Mr. Howell's interjection and kept right on with his story. "We actually took in quite a good catch that day. There really is nothing quite like the smell of fresh fish!" he said enthusiastically. Then, he said with a hearty laugh and a big smile, "Of course after all these years on the island, I guess you all know that!"

The Professor had to suppress a chuckle at the Skipper's delight. The captain was as enthused about the smell of freshly caught fish as the ladies were about their various kinds of perfume. _How humorous! Well, I suppose if an item's visual attractiveness is determined by the ocular perception of the beholder, then it would follow that the level of pleasantness of any given scent would vary with the olfactory system of each individual, _he reasoned. Opting not to vocalize these musings, he just displayed a happy, warm smile.

The Skipper continued on with his story, giving more details about that particular fishing trip.

"The first fish I got on the line was a sanddab. Oddest looking thing I ever saw at the time. Flat as a pancake and both eyes on the same side of its body!" he explained, his hands gesturing descriptively.

"When we got back to shore, I couldn't stop talking about it. I had so many questions for Pop about the different kinds of fish and birds that I saw, and what made the water move like it did. He took the time to explain to me all about the tides and the different kinds of marine life."

The castaways all knew the Skipper to be just as enthusiastic about dispensing information regarding nautical matters as the Professor was when it came to matters of science. They could easily picture him having many, many conversations with his apparently very patient father.

Proceeding on with his tale the Skipper said, "Now, as you all know, young kids can have big dreams, but those dreams often change quickly. That's how it was with me. One week I wanted to be a cowboy. The next, I wanted to live like Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest."

Gilligan was in his glory as the Skipper described his childhood dreams. His face lit up as his imagination kicked in. He pictured a young boy galloping around his house pretending he was on a horse, and maybe shooting at trees and bushes with a homemade bow and arrows. He wondered what other things his captain did as a child. He was dying to ask if he spent time with other kids in the neighborhood, maybe playing catch or shooting marbles. But he was determined to sit quietly for the rest of the tale, so he controlled himself.

"My folks would always humor me as I talked about what I wanted to be when I grew up," continued the Skipper. "But after we went out in the boat that day, all I wanted to do was be out on the water. I begged Pop every week to go back out in the boat. When he saw how sincere I was about that particular interest, he made sure to take me whenever it was possible. I loved it so much – but it was never enough."

"When I got older, I would spend a lot of my free time hanging around the local marina, working at whatever odd jobs I could find. I cleaned nets, swabbed decks, cleared barnacles off ship's hulls – anything to get near the water. One summer I got a job aboard a fishing boat, and we sailed out every day. It was hard work, but I didn't mind. I just loved being out on a boat."

Mary Ann was leaning on one elbow with her chin resting on her hand. Wide-eyed and attentive, hanging on the Skipper's every word, she was as engaged by his tale as she was when she tuned into her favorite radio programs.

Mr. Howell was listening intently as well, and doing his best to control himself when he heard the word "work" being thrown about so casually. He and the captain certainly had quite different ideas of what kind of labor was enjoyable. Nevertheless, he could understand the intrigue of being by the water. He had conducted many a business meeting aboard the vessels he owned. He raised his eyebrows and smiled as he recalled a particularly lucrative deal he brokered while docked at the marina of the Sunnybrook Yacht Club. _There certainly is something very compelling indeed about the outdoor atmosphere and aquatic surroundings,_ he reflected silently.

"May I assume this is what prompted you to join the Navy?" interjected the Professor.

"Yes, actually. It was," said the Skipper. He glanced down at his hand. "I remember the day I shipped out. Pop took me aside and told me how proud he was of me. Then he pulled this ring off his finger and gave it to me. He told me he wanted it to be a reminder that I had folks at home that loved me, no matter where I went or what I encountered."

All around the table were touched. The men were quietly pensive, and the ladies held their hands to their hearts as they contemplated the gesture and loving words of the Skipper's father.

"After that, my parents hugged me goodbye, I boarded the ship, and waved as we sailed away."

Ginger was envisioning what the Skipper must have looked like as his boat left the dock. A young sailor, tall and handsome, his blond hair neatly tucked under a cap that probably looked like the one Gilligan always wore, with the muscles in his arms flexed as he stood at attention and saluted. She knew he was embarrassed that he had put on some weight over the years, but they all could see that his strength had not diminished over time. She honestly thought that the Skipper was one of the most powerful men she had ever met. He could carry Gilligan around like a feather, and she remembered quite clearly a time when he knocked over a palm tree with a single blow of his bare fist. _I think I'll try and encourage him to do some of my special toning exercises again. That way, when we get rescued, he can stand tall, handsome and confident at the bow of the ship that comes to save us,_ she decided. Ginger's mind drifted ahead in time, picturing an older, wiser man with a captain's hat, standing stolidly at the helm of a boat, arms crossed, peering out over the ocean.

The Skipper went on to speak briefly of the years that followed. "My life certainly changed from that point on. I had a lot to learn, and the work was hard, but I have some of fond memories of serving in those early days. Even during the rough times, whenever we would experience a couple hours of quietness, I would find some spot on the deck where I could just look out at the water. I guess the vastness of the ocean sort of put things into perspective. Then, when I would hear the sound of the waves lapping up against the ship, and breathe in that clean, salty air… it calmed me in a way, and helped me press on."

Even though the Skipper had drawn on memories from the time he spent during the battle at Guadalcanal in efforts to repair their transmitter long ago, the others knew he did not like to discuss in detail some of the more brutal experiences he had during his time in the Navy. Gilligan, however, was well aware of how many nights the Skipper suffered disturbed sleep and nightmares from those years spent during the war. He had always felt badly for his friend, so he was relieved to hear the Skipper explaining that there was something that was able to bring him such comfort.

The Skipper then admitted that, though he seldom discussed it with the other castaways, he felt a weighty sort of sadness to be perpetually confined to land, unable to be out sailing the seas.

"I quite understand Captain," said Mr. Howell. "The proverbial 'fish out of water'… if you will pardon the pun. It must be something akin to how I feel each day, having been torn away from the world of high finance. Oh, how I do miss the heady intoxication of the stock market when it first opens in the morning!"

_It always comes back to money with Mr. Howell!_ thought the Skipper. However, he realized that the millionaire did indeed understand what he meant. The two were so different, yet they were able to feel the same intense sense of loss and longing, being separated from the environment of their choice.

The Skipper looked to his left and he was met with disconcerted faces all down the side of the table. Gilligan, Ginger and Mary Ann were all feeling particularly sad for their captain. Immediately he spoke up to set aside their concerns.

"Now folks, there's no reason to feel sad for me. Sure I get down from time to time. But today, as I was sitting down by the beach, something occurred to me. I'm going to try and look at our time here on the island like playing football.

"Football?" asked Gilligan, his voice notching up an octave out of surprise.

All the others looked at each other, equally confused.

"Sure, Gilligan. Football. You know I played a bit of football in high school and, well, you see, the thing of it is, well… there were plenty of times a fella would get a small injury and have to sit out a few plays on the bench. But he still got to watch and, eventually, he would get back in the game. So… sure I'd rather be out on a boat right now, but this is like my temporary time on the bench, if you understand my meaning."

His reasoning seemed quite simple and logical, and many seated at the table that night decided to try and latch on to something in their own lives that they could use as a similar comparison to ease the trauma of being away from what they loved for just a temporary amount of time.

Gilligan just smiled. The Skipper was always trying to teach him life lessons from familiar surroundings. He really liked this one.

"If I have to be stuck on land, at least I'm on land surrounded by water!" added the Skipper with a large smile and a jolly, good natured laugh that made all the others smile and laugh too.

As his laughter gradually subsided, he let out a bit of a sigh. Gazing off into the distance contemplatively, almost picturing the scene as he described it, the Skipper concluded, "I can sit by the beach, watch the waves rolling in, breathe in that salty air, and feel that ocean breeze across my face, just like when I was a kid."

Looking around the table he then pronounced with great feeling, "So that's what I wanted to celebrate folks. The day my pop took me out on a boat for the first time and introduced me to what I now consider to be my old friend… the sea."

"Well, that was quite moving old chap," said Mr. Howell, whose emotions were tremendously stirred by the Skipper's tale - more so than he anticipated, and certainly more so than he would admit. These two strong-willed men had often clashed horns about many matters, but were quite alike at the heart of things. He reached over, shook the Skipper's hand and patted him on the shoulder and said, "Happy Anniversary, Captain."

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!" cheered the group around the table, clapping for their captain who was now smiling in earnest.

Mr. Howell, still somewhat emotional said, "That tale gave me peacock bumps. Look Lovey…" he said as he leaned toward his wife and tugged up the jacket of his sleeve slightly.

"Don't you mean goose bumps?" asked Ginger.

"On a Howell? Indeed!" he replied indignantly. He then began muttering on nonsensically in his usual manner.

"Oh, never mind all that static, Mr. Howell," said the Skipper, toning down the millionaire's dramatics and distractions. He had great plans in mind and wanted to share them with the group.

"When we get rescued, the first thing I'm going to do is buy a new boat, and I can give you all that island tour we were meant to have years ago," the Skipper declared with great enthusiasm. However, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his smile dissipated a bit as he thought that perhaps, after all they had been through, maybe the others would not be so keen to board a ship with him at the helm. He knew that the Maritime Board had cleared him of all guilt years ago, but he didn't know how the others really felt, so he added with a note of sadness in his voice, "That is… if you all would _want_ to sail with me again."

He did not have long to worry over this point, as his island-mates began to speak, revealing that his fears were completely unwarranted.

"Can can I still be your first mate?" asked Gilligan,

"Well, of course you can, Little Buddy," answered the Skipper.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea Skipper! Count me in," affirmed Ginger with a beautiful smile on her face.

"Oh, me too!" agreed Mary Ann quickly as she clasped her hands together and scrunched up her shoulders. Her brown eyes were sparkling with excitement. Of course she wanted to see her family again, and that would be her first order when they were finally rescued. However, the time away from home had awoken a spirit of adventure in her. She wanted to sail around all the islands and see as much as she could, and she knew there was no one better to lead the way than their beloved captain.

As they seemed to be going around the table with their responses, the Skipper, Gilligan and the girls looked over at the Professor who once again had his hand to his chin, clearly deep in thought. He too was quite moved by the Skipper's vivid recounting, and was pondering how much of the beauty and richness of his surroundings he missed by being so focused on his research.

"Professor? You _are_ going to join us when the Skipper gets a new boat, aren't you?" asked Ginger.

There was no response from the Professor as he was still deep in thought.

"Professor?" said the Skipper in a little louder voice, trying to catch the attention of the man of science.

Snapping out of his silent revelry, the Professor looked up and noticed the worried look on the Skipper's face. "Forgive me. I was still caught up in your quite moving tale. Of course I shall be honored to set sail with you all again!"

Wishing to be clear that he bore the captain no ill will he affirmed, "It was the caprice of the weather that marooned us here Skipper, certainly not your seamanship. I would actually love another boat trip, and this time I want to focus on enjoying my surroundings rather than be so distracted trying to categorize all the flora and fauna."

The Howells were the only ones who had not responded. They too looked deep in thought.

Mrs. Howell had one gloved hand placed to her chin contemplatively. Suddenly she displayed a full smile as she came to a decision. "I think I'll wear my blue dress. I believe it would go quite nicely with these turquoise waters. That is, of course, depending on the color of your new boat Captain. After all, it wouldn't do to wear something that would clash with the trim," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Quite right, my dear," affirmed Mr. Howell. He too started mumbling about which blazer and cap he should don for their future launch.

All the Skipper could do was smile at those comments. _Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Howell._ As usual, they were more concerned with choosing the proper outfits than anything else. The Skipper laughed a bit to himself as he recalled how they always did their best to dress for the occasion at hand. He remembered Mr. Howell putting on a full wetsuit and flippers to trek down to the lagoon when a space capsule had splashed down there and, during a time of fear over invading headhunters, Mrs. Howell's greatest concern was what attire would be proper for a capture. With a sigh of relief, the Skipper realized the millionaire couple clearly bore him no ill will for their shipwreck.

The prospect of a new boat and a tour around the islands propelled the group into another lively conversation regarding what their futures might hold once they were rescued.

Gilligan was guessing that they would all be interviewed on the radio and then they could tell the world all their great adventures.

"Being interviewed on the radio would be great, but I say we need to think bigger!" insisted Ginger. She thought for sure she would return to the island some day with a full film crew, as it would be a great location to shoot a movie.

"Capital idea!" said Mr. Howell. With dollar signs in his eyes, he began to think of plenty of other ways to make money off their exclusive little island.

As the others all chatted away about their future plans, the Skipper sat back with his arms folded across his chest and thought about all the stories they had heard that night, and all the happy memories that had been revealed. And it was all because of Gilligan's suggestion.

He looked at his first mate fondly. After all these years he was still content to work by his side. He really had become like the son he never had. The Skipper looked down at his ring again. He knew that he would pass it on to Gilligan some day, along with his sea chest and all the trinkets he had accumulated over the years as he passed through foreign ports and sailed around the many islands of the pacific. He thought of Singapore, and then the Solomon Islands… _So many memories..._

However, the captain only allowed himself to wax nostalgic for a few minutes. Now that he, and all the other castaways had told their anniversary tales and shared their happy memories, knew the time had come for his loyal young friend to take his turn. He cleared his throat and then, with his powerful, authoritative voice, he called those at the gathering to order.

"Folks, it looks like we have finally come down the man of the hour."

Everyone began clapping, including Gilligan, who was just looking around the table smiling. He was still thinking about what he would do when they got off the island, and it didn't occur to him that the 'man of the hour' the Skipper mentioned was him.

"That's YOU Gilligan," clarified the Skipper, patting his little buddy on the back.

"Oh yeah," said the first mate. "I guess it is my turn."

All eyes were upon him as he rose to his feet. It was finally time for Gilligan to have his say…


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9 – THE GIFT OF GILLIGAN

All eyes were on the young man with the red shirt and the white hat. He was still wearing the blue blazer Mr. Howell had gifted him earlier that evening. Gilligan liked the way it made him feel somewhat classy and distinguished, but after years of spending each day in a comfortable cotton shirt, the jacket felt restrictive and a bit too heavy to be wearing in such tropical temperatures. He glanced over at Mr. Howell and the Professor. He didn't know how they managed to keep cool that evening with the warm breeze that was blowing and all the heat that the tiki torches were throwing off. He was feeling warmer by the minute. _Maybe it's just nerves,_ he thought to himself.

Gilligan had been listening with great interest while all the others had told their anniversary tales, but now that his turn had come, he was starting to feel a bit self-conscious. He wasn't really one for making speeches. He loved to talk, but it was different when all eyes were upon him, expecting a grand presentation. He squirmed a bit and tugged at the top button on his shirt collar until it popped open, giving him a little more air. As he took a moment to gather his thoughts, everyone seated at the table was contemplating what event Gilligan might have picked as a tremendous moment in his life. They each had their own ideas on the matter.

During their island exile, Gilligan had regaled his fellow castaways with many stories involving his friends back home so Mr. Howell sat there, with eyebrows up, fully prepared to hear some complicated tale revolving around Skinny Mulligan, Fatso Flannigan or maybe even perhaps Florence Oppenheimer. The millionaire didn't usually remember the names of people that held no place in the world of wealth and high finance, but the names of Gilligan's childhood friends had been burned into his brain over the years.

Mary Ann was wondering if he would bring up something about animals. She knew he was certainly very fond of them. During their butterfly hunting expeditions he had told her countless stories of his childhood, and many of them involved animals. She quickly ran through some of the more dramatic tales he had shared with her, wondering if he might pick one to recount that night in greater detail. _Let's see, _Mary Ann thought to herself, _there was that pony named Bruce that he loved riding at his uncle Artie's farm. Will he talk about him? Or maybe he'll tell us more about the hawk he rescued one winter. What did he name it? Spotty? Or was it Screechy?_

The Skipper was anticipating something along the same line as Mary Ann. Every time they thought a rescue was near at hand, and they were packing up their belongings, Gilligan inevitably tried to stow away some type of island souvenir into their sea chest, and on several occasions it was a live souvenir. He had no problem befriending and naming every animal he encountered on the island thus far. _Maybe tonight he'll bring up some favorite pet from his childhood,_ the Skipper guessed inwardly_._ _I'll bet if that kid had an ant farm he would've named each one of them too, _he thought_._

Ginger was guessing that Gilligan would tell a tale involving a family member, as all of the others had done. He had certainly mentioned plenty of relatives over the years. _Could there possibly be one we haven't heard about yet?_ she wondered. _ A third cousin who had run off to join the circus? An aunt who invented a tutti-frutti flavored pancake? A twin brother maybe… stolen at birth, and then taken to another country where he became the son of a royal family… _Ginger managed to catch herself and suppress a smile as she noticed how far afield her thoughts were going. _ Oh my! I think listening to Mary Ann talk about all those afternoon dramas is starting to have an effect on my imagination,_ thought the starlet to herself. _Although… that would make for an interesting movie,_ she decided.

Everyone's mental journeying, wherever it might have been taking them, came to a quick halt as Gilligan cleared his throat and began to address the group.

"Well, I'd just like to say that I think that everyone's story tonight was just great. I'm sure you're all pretty curious about what I have to say. I was thinking about it all day."

Gilligan's nerves dissipated as soon as he started to talk. His mind was so flooded with information however, that he could hardly get it out quick enough. So he set the guidelines for speech making and storytelling aside and just started to speak out all the thoughts that came to his mind in rapid succession.

"There was that time when me and Fatso Flannigan built this really neat wagon..."

_Here it comes_, thought Mr. Howell, bracing himself.

"…but then I remembered what a great time I had when my brother Mark and I climbed up the tallest tree in our yard to throw our toy parachutes. Of course there was also the day when my mom taught me how to make a pumpkin pie with real whipped cream. I put twice as much sugar in as I was supposed to, but I didn't care. You all know what a sweet tooth I have. Boy, was that pie ever good!" said Gilligan as he licked his lips and smiled, the memory so vivid that he could almost taste what he was describing.

But then the young sailor took a turn and went on, "But then I thought maybe I should talk about something from when I was in school. Like why I failed art in the third grade, or how I got to be president of my eighth grade camera club or why my high school gym teacher Mr. Wildley had me and Walter Stuckmeyer run extra laps around the track. You know, Walter was pigeon-toed so it took us…."

As the short tidbit about Walter progressed, the Professor took a deep breath. It seemed that they were in for a trip down a complicated and winding path through every memory Gilligan had.

"…but then I got to thinking about all the things that have happened on the island," continued the first mate, "like how we tried to make a raft and almost got eaten by sharks, or when Wrongway tried to teach me how to fly using fruit for the airplane instruments, or when Harold Hecuba was here and we did that really neat play and I got to be Hamlet…"

Ginger let out a little sigh at the memory of that production.

"…or when those natives came to the island and tried to make me marry their daughter and I had to fight her giant boyfriend, or when that crazy scientist took us to his castle to do those strange experiments on us…"

Everyone around the table shuddered as they recalled the events surrounding that incident.

"…or when the Mosquitoes were here and we got to dress up like musicians and have our own band. Remember guys? We got to wear those cool wigs and really hip outfits, and we made up our own song…"

With that, Gilligan picked up a few utensils and started drumming on the table, shaking and bobbing his head singing, "Yeah, yeah, yeah…"

Finally, the captain could bear it no longer.

"Gilligan!" said the Skipper loudly and firmly in a frustrated tone, bringing a quick halt to his first mate's solo performance, snapping him back to the present.

Trying to keep his cool, the captain continued, in as calm a voice as he could muster, "We know you have had all kinds of adventures in your childhood, and we are all certainly familiar with the ones you've had here. Do you think you could just tell us which moment you picked to celebrate?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure. I didn't mean to ramble, it's just that, like you said, I've had a lot of adventures in my life, and a lot of interesting things have happened to me, but the moment I would like to pick to celebrate tonight is…"

Gilligan then turned toward the man seated at the head of the table and concluded, "…the day I met you Skipper."

Immediately the mighty captain felt a tear go right through his heart. A look of shock spread across his face and his mouth was opened in disbelief.

The Professor's eyebrows went up and Ginger and Mary Ann exchanges glances of surprise, as did Mr. and Mrs. Howell. No one had expected this choice. They looked back at Gilligan and his captain.

Finally the Skipper found his voice. "But, Gilligan – I thought you wanted all of us to commemorate some personal memory, something that no one else knew about. I remember quite clearly the day we met, and our ship assignments are a matter of naval record, so…"

"That's true, Skipper," interrupted Gilligan. An interesting smile of satisfaction and pride crossed over his face. He liked it when he was able to catch his captain off guard. "Lots of people know the _date_ that I met you, but that's not really important. What I want to celebrate is _why_ that day was so important to me."

"Why was it so important, Little Buddy?" asked his bewildered captain.

"Because you changed my life."

The Skipper felt a huge lump form in his throat. He swallowed hard, and just kept staring at his first mate in dismay, shocked that he was bestowing this singular honor upon him.

Seeing his captain was at a loss for words, Gilligan continued to explain himself.

"You see, I had a really great family with parents who loved me, so it wasn't like I needed a dad or anything, and I had lots of pals so I wasn't really lonely. But when I met you, well… I had never met anyone like you, Skipper. I remember seeing you on the deck of the ship, a few days before we actually met. You were so tall and your voice was so strong and loud. All the other guys were afraid of you. I think I was a little bit too. But the day I actually got to meet you - you know after the accident when you came to visit me in sickbay - and I got to talk with you, I found out that under that tough exterior, you were a really swell guy. That day changed my life Skipper. YOU changed my life."

Gilligan continued facing the Skipper, talking directly to him. The other castaways were almost holding their breath as they became observers only, watching the interaction and listening as the conversation between the Skipper and Gilligan continued to unfold. They all knew the captain and his first mate had a special bond, but now they were hearing the reasons for the depth of their friendship explained so simply and clearly by the pure-hearted young man who had initiated the evening's proceedings. They could do nothing but watch, and internalize their reactions so as not to mar this most precious moment.

Gilligan went on to explain to the Skipper why he had joined the Navy in the first place.

"I was just a loud-mouthed kid, always goofing around. Me and Skinny Mulligan were planning on buying a car and roaming the countryside. I never thought about what I wanted to do with my life. I just wanted to have fun. But my dad was worried I would end up like some kind of beatnik, just hanging around and playing the bongos, never wanting to work."

The Professor did his best to contain a smile at that remark as he thought of the shaggy haired students he had in some of the classes he taught. They had no direction, no drive. They just slouched at their desks with vacant expressions on their faces, completely uninterested, until class was over. The idea of Gilligan sliding into that kind of life was almost laughable. _Although,_ he paused in thought, _he always has displayed quite a fondness for playing the drums over the years..._

"So my dad suggested I join the Navy, and it was really great. I learned all kinds of important things, and was having a good time with all the other guys my age, but then I washed out in my first year and was going to get sent home," concluded Gilligan, casting his eyes down as he recalled his feelings at the time.

"Gilligan, Little Buddy, you didn't wash out. You were a hero! You only got hurt because you were trying to save my life," the captain reminded his young friend, with much emotion in his voice.

"I know, Skipper. But still. The idea of heading back home after that… Well, it made me feel like I would have to be a little kid again. The time I spent that year helped me feel like a grown-up. Like a man. I didn't want to give that up. And I didn't want to go back home and have to work in a factory or something. That's what Skinny's dad made him do."

Gilligan continued to explain to the Skipper, "But that didn't happen. You offered me a good job working on the Minnow, and you taught me all kinds of things over the years. Like when we were repainting the hull after you first bought the boat. Remember, Skipper? You showed me how to hold the brush just right, and cut in all the edges. You told me your father always said, 'Hurried work is worried work,' so I should learn to take my time when I did things."

"I remember," replied the captain. What he remembered was a very young man with one shoe soaked from stepping in the paint can, a knot on his head from slipping on the ladder and a huge and eager smile on his face. The Skipper was sure there was more paint on Gilligan than on the boat by the time he finished, but he just kept at it until the job was done.

The Skipper was leaning on one strong arm, his hand to his chin, looking at Gilligan and still trying to absorb what was happening. He thought back to the early days that he was referencing. He had originally felt compelled to hire him as his first mate, not only out of a sense of gratitude for the young man saving his life, but also because he sensed genuineness about him. He thought if he just worked with him, he could help him overcome his clumsiness, and that his youthful exuberance that so often got him into trouble would dissipate over time. Over the years the Skipper had resigned himself to the fact that some things about Gilligan were just not going to change, but in a way he was glad about that. True, he would have preferred to live without the bumps and bruises that he was certain to sustain whenever he came in close proximity to his first mate, but he was his little buddy, and he couldn't imagine life without him in it.

"And how about the times you took me out for steak because you said I was just too thin?" said Gilligan cheerfully.

The Skipper's smiled widened at that. He had tried everything he could think of to pack some weight on his young friend, but no matter how much Gilligan ate, he didn't gain an ounce. _Ah, but all those steak dinners at the restaurants and the back yard cookouts sure were tasty,_ he thought to himself_._ And he remembered how much he loved having someone to take under his wing, to teach, not only about sailing and the ways of the sea, but also about important things in life, like how to grill a steak and smother it with onions, or what to put to put in a burger to make it turn out extra moist. He shared all his secret recipes with Gilligan, much like a father would do with a son, handing down family traditions from one generation to the next. He treasured the time they spent during those early years. But he had other memories as well.

"Well, Little Buddy, you did a lot of things for me too. Remember when I was laid up with that broken wrist, and you brought me some friend chicken and apple juice?" said the Skipper to Gilligan.

The others looked at each other in wonderment at the mention of that odd combination. Their inward thoughts traveled different paths. The Professor was contemplating what curative properties those foods might have. Mary Ann's mind drifted back to her family's farm and the many apple trees that grew there. She was grateful for the variety of fruits that they had on the island, but how she missed those apples from home!

Gilligan explained to the Skipper, "Well, that was what my grandmother always made for me when I got hurt and had to stay home and rest, and it was de-licious! Of course, it was supposed to be apple cider, but that was kind of hard to find in Hawaii, so I just settled for apple juice."

"Well, it sure hit the spot!" said the captain with a hearty smile, as he pat his belly and laughed.

"And hey, Skipper, how about when you caught that really big fish!" said Gilligan with widened eyes. "It must have been over a hundred pounds. You had to play him for over two hours before you landed him!" he concluded with great excitement.

"Yeah. That was really something!" agreed the captain with another large smile.

As the two sailors continued swapping stories back and forth from their glory days, the others absorbed the history with great interest. Finally the review of their times together reached the fateful day of their last cruise which had deposited them there on the island.

"When I think about how you piloted the ship and kept us all safe during the storm - well, you're just the bravest man I ever met, Skipper. You saved MY life that day, and everyone else's life too," said Gilligan in all sincerity.

The captain was touched. Gilligan's words were worth more than any honor or medal he had earned during the years he served in the Navy.

"And think about it, Skipper. Even here on the island, you've done a lot for me. Even if I didn't always like it, you made me work hard to mold me into officer material. You taught me how to be a leader – you know - how to stand up tall, suck in my gut, sneer and scowl and bark out orders and all that kind of stuff." While explaining, Gilligan had straightened up, narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow as he tried to look as seasoned and salty as he could.

The Skipper smiled at his first mate's attempt to look "real Navy". Unsure whether he had succeeded or failed in his training efforts, a strong feeling of pride welled up in the captain's heart nevertheless. Even at his most ridiculous moments, he thought his little buddy was the sweetest, kindest little guy in the whole world, and when it came right down to it, he had indeed shown he could take the lead if necessary.

Gilligan relaxed his stance and face as he saw the Skipper's smile of approval.

"Even though you snore like a jet plane with asthma, you're the greatest bunkmate a guy could have. And every time I fall out of a tree, or my hammock, or if I trip or lose my balance, I never get hurt because I land on you, and you're a great cushion."

Those comments, which might have been taken as criticism by some, simply bounced right off the Skipper, just as easily as all the coconuts Gilligan had dropped on him over the years. There were plenty of times that the first mate delighted in making jokes about his captain's less than perfect physique, just to get him riled up, but this was not one of those moments, and the Skipper knew it. Thus, he took the young man's words as face value, knowing that everything his little buddy was saying that evening was meant as a compliment.

"And even though you sure do like to yell a lot, I know you will never stop being my friend," said Gilligan.

It was true that when the Skipper bellowed, the sound could resonate right through a person, like the roar of a lion, but in actually the mighty sailor was as kind and caring as person could be. The others silently marveled at the combination of the Skipper and Gilligan. Their daily interactions were something to behold indeed. The yelling and swatting of the cap – had it been any other man, with any other disposition, they all probably would have despised him. But their captain had a certain way about him. No matter how much he boomed and blustered, they knew he was all heart underneath. They were all certain that he would rather be on the receiving end of the most deadly poison dart of a native than to let any harm come to his young friend.

The way Gilligan responded to the Skipper was equally amazing. He picked and chose his moments to stand up for himself, but all the others could tell he bore the caption no ill will. They were quite the team, like a ship and its rudder. One would be certainly lost without the other. They were as odd an amalgam as Gilligan's 'get well' meal, yet just as perfectly matched in a way.

"And the best thing about you Skipper," added Gilligan, "is how you always forgive me, even though I always mess everything up."

The Skipper felt like his heart would break over that last comment. "Now Gilligan," he said sternly, "I won't have you talk like that. Everybody makes mistakes. You're always trying your best, and that's what's important."

It was at this juncture that the others seated at the table ceased being spectators and began to participate in the conversation. Their hearts had been most sincerely moved by the depth of friendship revealed, and no words from them were necessary. They just enjoyed listening and reveling in what was transpiring, astounded even more than ever at the depth and kindheartedness of their friend Gilligan. But now, to hear him reveal such pain and lack of confidence over his value – well that was just unsupportable, and they all felt compelled to do what they could do correct his perception. The Professor was the first to interject.

"We all have made plenty of mistakes over the years here on the island, Gilligan," he asserted. " Why, I still feel rather foolish for getting everyone's hopes up when I misread the hieroglyphics on those stone tablets we found in the caves."

Mary Ann jumped in quickly thereafter. "And Gilligan, how about the time I put flash powder in a cake instead of flour, and it exploded when you blew out the candles? I've never been so embarrassed in my life!" she said, her voice rising dramatically and plaintively at the memory.

Looking down the table toward the young farm girl Gilligan said, "C'mon Mary Ann. That was just a simple mistake. I was the one who put the gourd with the flash powder down on the table while you were baking."

"That's true, but I always taste the food that I'm cooking, just to be sure it will turn out all right. That night I didn't and, well…"

"Boom!" said Gilligan, finishing her sentence and smiling at the memory. "Yeah – what a blast!" he said with a laugh.

Ginger was the next to join in. "What about when we had that wonderful raft, but we sunk it right in the lagoon because we all were greedy and snuck those heavy bags of gold on with us. I think we were _all_ guilty of ruining that rescue – everyone, that is, but you, Gilligan," said the movie star as she looked up at the first mate with eyes full of sincerity.

Each one around the table nodded their heads in agreement and muttered words of regret – all except for Mr. Howell. He simply looked up and around and did his best to avoid eye contact with anyone.

His wife nudged him slightly. "Thurston!"

"But, Lovey, a Howell is never wrong!" the millionaire replied to his wife, quietly yet decidedly. He secretly wanted to add his words of regret, but he had his image to protect. _What would my cronies back at home think of me? 'Granite-heart Howell' admitting error? Apologizing? Impossible!_ he thought to himself.

"Well, you were wrong this time, and you must apologize this instant!" said his wife just as firmly.

Mr. Howell's face contorted dramatically, as if great suffering were about to bring him to tears. "Must I?" he asked.

"You must!" said sternly, crossing her arms and assuming her most determined posture.

"Well, all right, dear," he acquiesced. "Gilligan I'm sorry," he spat out quickly, all in one breath.

"Ahhh, there, now that didn't hurt too much, did it?" pointed out the fine lady with a proud smile.

"No," her husband replied with a large grin. "When you say it real fast it kills the pain," he said with a chuckle and a proud smile.

Mrs. Howell nodded her head in agreement and patted her husband's cheek approvingly.

Gilligan was touched by the attempts of his friends to soothe his pained heart. He knew that even Mr. Howell's apology, although quickly said, was sincerely meant. He also knew how much the others cared for him. They really were like family, after all. Perhaps that was why he hated to let them down, and why it stung so much when they got upset with him. Gilligan tried to give voice to the mix of emotions he was feeling.

"Well, that's awfully nice of you all to say, but I really have done some dumb things, and you all have been pretty mad at me sometimes."

The Professor thought back to some very moving words one of his mentors had shared with him, years prior, when a proposed thesis of his was soundly rejected as nonsense by the majority at a university he was attending at the time. Feeling the substance of that encouragement would fit the situation at hand he said, "Gilligan, there was a seventeenth century satirist whose words sum things up quite nicely I believe. He said, 'When a true genius appears, you can know him by this sign: that all the dunces are in a confederacy against him.'"

The Professor's intense facial expression told Gilligan he was trying to make an important point, but the young man wasn't completely sure it was.

Seeing the confused look on his face, the Professor tried to explain himself.

"What I'm trying to say Gilligan is that, while it is true that you can be somewhat clumsy at times, you have also displayed moments of brilliance, and at those times _we_ were the ones at fault for either not understanding you or ganging up against you. Many times, unfortunately, I believe we attempted to compensate for our frustration and disappointment over a failed rescue by trying to assign blame to someone. Since you are such an affable, guileless and tolerant young man, regrettably that distinction often fell upon you."

"What we're trying to say Gilligan is that we're sorry for being so rough on you, Little Buddy," clarified the Skipper.

"…and that we love you Gilligan," added Mary Ann.

"We do Gilligan, very much," agreed Ginger as she reached up and put her well-manicured hand reassuringly on his arm.

Mary Ann,with a bright smile and an excited voice, continued to try and encourage the first mate. "Gilligan, just think of all the times you helped us by being really brave. Like when you put on that jet pack, or when you towed that mine out to sea," she reminded him.

"That's right," agreed the Skipper. "And how about all the times you saved us from the headhunters that have landed on the island? Do you remember the Kupakai?" he asked.

"How could I forget?" Gilligan responded. "I looked just like their king on top of that totem pole," he said as he put his hands to his face, running them over his cheeks as the memory washed over him.

"They had us all tied up, and they were sharpening their swords," continued the Skipper. "Another few minutes and…" He stopped talking and just held his hand around his throat, swallowing hard at the memory of how close they had come to losing their lives. Several others around the table did the same.

"But when you fell, and that wooden head went rolling across the ground, why, they took off running for their canoe as fast as their legs would carry them!" said the Professor with a smile and a laugh, reminding them all of the happy outcome.

"Oh yeah. That sure was crazy! Guess they'll never come back to this island again," laughed the first mate.

Ginger sat up a little straighter in her seat as she remembered another occasion when Gilligan had come to their rescue. She turned toward him and said, "Oooo! And how about when that other tribe came and captured us, but you tricked them by getting them to drink the juice from those special berries. Kapa..Klepa…"

"Keptabora berries," interjected the Professor. "The ones with the rather unstable properties which affect the ocular nerve in a most interesting manner."

"Oh, that's right. Thanks, Professor. Keptabora berries. Do you remember, Gilligan? When they drank the juice, it affected their eyes, and they thought that they were outnumbered and just ran away!"

"Hey, yeah," said Gilligan with a smile as he stood up a little straighter. "I guess I did come up with a pretty good idea that time," he conceded, "but that drink really tasted terrible," he said wrinkling his face up and twisting his tongue around in his mouth.

"Perspicacity and ingenuity!" blurted out the millionaire as he smacked his hand down solidly on the bamboo rim of the table.

"What's that, Mr. Howell?" asked Gilligan.

"Why, your qualities, of course! You really _ahhrre_ something when you put your mind to things, my boy."

"You're quite right, my dear," said Mrs. Howell to her husband. Then turning her attention to Gilligan, she added, "Just look at this wonderful party we are enjoying this evening. It was _your_ idea after all Gilligan, and I think it has been simply divine!" she said with her voice rising and falling with the perfect high class intonations.

At that, the Skipper stood and put one strong arm around Gilligan's shoulder and said, "That's right, Little Buddy. You turned a very gloomy and sad day into a real happy one. I think I can speak for everyone here tonight when I say that this evening was just fantastic, right folks?"

The Skipper gave a quick glance toward all those seated around the table and saw that they were all nodding their heads in agreement.

He continued, "We got to relive lots of happy memories from our past, and learn a little more about each other. And that was all because of you, Gilligan."

"Well, I was just trying to do what you told me," said Gilligan with all sincerity.

"Huh?" replied the Skipper, confused by his first mate's remark.

"Don't you remember, Skipper? When we first got marooned here, you told me it was _my_ job to calm the passengers and cheer them up," said Gilligan to his captain.

Putting his hand to his chin, he thought for a moment. "Why, that's right. I guess I did," replied the Skipper as he recalled his command to his first mate on the sandy beach they landed on years ago. Overcome by the notion that Gilligan took that assignment to heart, and that he was still doing his best to carry it out years later, he squeezed the skinny shoulder of his faithful protégé a little tighter and gave him a pat on the chest.

"Well, you've done a fine job, son. I'm really proud of you. I may spout off at you a lot, but you're at the top of this list with me."

Gilligan smiled his largest, broadest smile of the evening. "Thanks, Skipper. That means a lot. You know, today when I got all those great lobsters and I was bringing them back to camp, all I could think of was how happy you would be too over the great catch, and that you would be proud of me. That's when I knew what I wanted to celebrate tonight. You're my best friend Skipper, and I know we'll be buddies forever."

"Gilligan…" the mighty sailor almost wailed, truly overcome by that final comment, "Little Buddy, I just don't know what to say…" choked out the Skipper.

The castaways seated around the table all flashed smiles and knowing glances of agreement at one another. Mr. Howell took the cue as well as the lead and rose to his feet, standing impressively as he had done so many times before back home at his corporate headquarters when he would call a board meeting to order.

"Well we do," he said authoritatively. "Happy Anniversary, dear boy!" proclaimed the millionaire with great intensity.

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY," cheered the rest of the group. Clapping and smiling, they all rose from their seats and rushed over to Gilligan. The Skipper kept one arm firmly and proudly planted around Gilligan's shoulder, but the girls managed to squeeze in and station themselves on each side of the first mate, hugging him and peppering his cheeks with kisses. Mr. Howell and the Professor stood behind him, each patting his back in approval. Mrs. Howell was directly in front of him and, with a twinkle in her eye, she reached out one gloved, bejeweled hand and grabbed his chin, gave it a delicate little pinch and flashed a large delighted smile.

Gilligan was overcome by all the attention and just stood there smiling, as his cheeks grew redder and redder from the girl's lipstick.

Wondering what his first mate thought of all the attention that he was getting the Skipper asked, "Well, Little Buddy, what do you have to say?"

"Umm…" said Gilligan with a goofy little grin, "What's for dessert?"

They all broke into whole-hearted and exuberant laughter as the hugs and pats of approval were showered on the first mate once more.

Each castaway had finally told their tale, but the evening was not over yet…


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10 – A CELEBRATION WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN GOLD

Since everyone was now on their feet, the girls thought it would indeed be a good time to bring out the desserts. Mary Ann started to clear the table, but Ginger stopped her.

"I'll take care of that. Since you did most of the cooking, why don't you let me clean up and get the desserts," she offered.

"Are you sure, Ginger?" asked Mary Ann, furrowing her brow a bit with concern as she often did.

"Sure, I'm sure," replied the movie star with the wave of her hand. "Relax for once."

A look of relief crossed the farm-girl's face.

"That would be wonderful. Thanks Ginger!" was Mary Ann's sincerely grateful reply. As much as she enjoyed cooking, it was an exhausting task sometimes, and she really had gone all out with the special items that she had prepared for their anniversary meal. Being relieved of dish-duty was a much welcomed offer.

Gilligan had taken his turn at the record player, winding up the faithful device, and beautiful music was once again providing a lovely backdrop for their evening. The first mate then meandered back over to the table, took his cap from his head and clutched it in his hands.

"Mary Ann, do you wanna dance?" he asked simply and politely.

"Oh, thank you very much, Gilligan," Mary Ann replied with a sweet smile.

As Ginger passed them, headed off towards the kitchen area, she took her free hand and tickled Gilligan a bit under his chin and whispered with a smile, "Don't forget to save a dance for me too, sailor." She gave him a little wink, and continued on her way.

"Okay, Ginger," Gilligan replied, blushingly slightly as he watched her walk away. Even though she was carrying a handful of dirty plates and utensils, she still exited with her characteristic sway, her white dress sparkling as the beading moved with each step.

Back at the table, Mr. and Mrs. Howell had taken the opportunity they had to aid the Skipper and the Professor on with their gifted ascots. The Skipper was fumbling with his, unable to get it situated correctly.

"Come, my good man. Allow me to assist you," offered Mr. Howell.

The Skipper fidgeted, feeling a bit like a school boy getting ready for his first dance.

"Captain, do stand still!" demanded the millionaire, as he made the final adjustments. "There. I do believe you look quite smashing."

The Skipper looked around for something even mildly reflective so he could catch a glimpse of himself. The closest thing he could find was the back of a metal spoon. Even though the image was slightly distorted because of the curvature of the utensil, he was quite pleased with his upgraded look.

Mrs. Howell had turned her attention to the Professor, who was having far less difficulty with his gift. All she did was reach over and straighten it a bit.

"My, Professor, you do look quite dashing!" said Mrs. Howell with a large approving smile.

"Why thank you Mrs. Howell, both for the generous gift, and your gracious support," he said, looking back at the heiress with the most genuine of smiles.

"Think nothing of it, dear boy." Touching the Professor lightly on the arm, Mrs. Howell leaned in and lowered her voice. "Professor, even though I'm certainly not old enough to actually be your mother, I want you to know you can always come to me, dear, if you need some assistance or advice - you know - from the perspective of a mature female, that is…"

The Professor smiled again at her comments. Even though they had all spent years together on the island, none of the others had any idea how old Mrs. Howell really was. That was her carefully guarded secret.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Professor noticed Ginger approaching, carrying all the desserts on one large tray.

"Here, let me help you with that," he said as he hurried over and took the weighty object from her and carried it over to the table.

"Thanks, Professor," Ginger replied, shaking her arms, grateful to be relieved of the heavy burden. She took her seat the table, and the Skipper and the Professor began slicing up the pies and other desserts into appropriate sized portions. The sugary, sweet scent of baked goods quickly drew everyone else back to their seats and the group began to savor the festive spread.

"These desserts look simply maaarvelous, girls!" proclaimed Mrs. Howell.

"Sorry there's no ice cream, Mrs. Howell," said Ginger, "but this is the best we could do with the items from our island grocery store."

"Oh, never mind that, dear. There will be plenty of time for frozen treats once we are rescued. Tonight is a time for tropical fare anyway."

"And we certainly have plenty of it!" proclaimed a happy Skipper. "You girls really outdid yourselves tonight. Why, we have coconut cream pie, mango pie and… what's this one?" he asked, unable to recognize it right away.

"I made that one just for Gilligan," replied Mary Ann. "It's his favorite – coconut, papaya and tuna fish pie."

As all the others recoiled, holding their hands to their stomachs or rolling their eyes, Gilligan flashed a huge smiled, licked his lips and moved that particular pie closer to him. He knew no one else would want even a bite of it, but he was sure that he would have no problem finishing it off all by himself.

The other desserts circulated around the table, each castaway taking bits of their favorites and putting them on their plates.

"Delicious!" proclaimed Mr. Howell as he took a bite of what had become their signature island treat.

Mrs. Howell was equally delighted with the taste. "Mary Ann dear, I do believe you should write up your recipes so they can be duplicated once we are rescued. As relieved as I shall be to return home, I don't think I will want to throw a party without serving one of these coconut cream pies. I must admit, I have become quite fond of them."

Mary Ann's face brightened at the suggestion. "An island cookbook. Why, that's a wonderful idea Mrs. Howell!" she proclaimed with enthusiasm. Putting her hand to her chin she wondered out loud, "Hmmm… now I wonder what I should call it?"

"How about, 'A Million Ways to Cook a Coconut'," mumbled Gilligan through a mouthful of dessert, chuckling at his own suggestion.

The rest of the group laughed as well. Coconuts had certainly played an integral part in their lives over the years. They had eaten them every way one could think of – sliced and diced, chopped and shredded, baked and fried. But Mary Ann thought that there was so much more that should go into their cookbook. She asked Ginger if she could include her wonderful recipe which she had created there on the island. It was a tart of sorts, made with a mix of blueberries and blackberries and a touch of lime – a dessert which they had all become quite fond of. The movie star was quick to agree. The Skipper of course offered to share his steak grilling tips, and thought that perhaps his special seasoning ideas for barbequed spare ribs could also go into the cookbook.

"I can give you my secret recipe for brandied peaches," offered Mr. Howell.

"Oh, Thurston!" said Mrs. Howell rolling her eyes. "Leaving out the peaches isn't much of a secret," she said with the waive of a gloved hand.

"Perhaps you're right, my dear. It is a family recipe after all… must keep that one close to the vest. I'm sure you understand Mary Ann, dear… privacy issues and all…ha!" he continued muttering with a smile.

Mrs. Howell went on to suggest that if Mary Ann was going to create a cookbook, then Ginger most certainly should produce a record once they were rescued. She felt her lovely voice deserved to be heard by as many people as possible. Ginger was delighted with the idea. Once the subject of Ginger's abilities as a songstress came up, it didn't take very long for the group to persuade her to entertain them right then with a few of their favorites. Her enchanting and strong voice echoed through the evening air, as clear and beautiful as it had ever been.

After Ginger's performance, and at Gilligan's urging, the Skipper went on to relate several amusing anecdotes about various characters he encountered during the years he spent working around the marina. He had some particularly funny stories about two brothers named Scotti and Vito who always managed to make an appearance and cause some kind of trouble. He soon all the group laughing with his wild tales, some so much that they could hardly catch their breath.

Even Mrs. Howell, as reserved as she was, could not help but wrinkle up her nose in delight. "Oh, Captain! You can't be serious!" she would interject with a large smile on her face as she would wave one of her gloved hands toward him.

As the evening progressed, some of the others took their turns in providing a little entertainment for their anniversary celebration. Mr. Howell eventually pulled a deck of cards out of his jacket pocket and amazed the group with a few sleight of hand tricks. He reveled over the fact that he still had several demonstrations that managed to befuddle and delight his fellow castaways. However, he only absorbed the spotlight for a short while before deciding to move on to another activity.

"Perhaps it's time for a little more music," he suggested.

"Oh, that's a splendid idea, my dear," agreed his wife, her face brightening.

With that, the millionaire rose to take his turn to wind up the phonograph. He took the opportunity to choose a record he knew to be one of his wife's favorites. Beautiful melodies once again filled the air.

"Come on, Ginger! Let's dance!" said Skipper enthusiastically as he rose to his feet.

Ginger stood quickly, happy to oblige. She knew that she could always count on the Skipper for a number of dances any time they threw a party.

Taking the movie star by the hand, the Skipper headed over to the dance area which Gilligan had dutifully raked up earlier that day. The blanket of defeat that had weighed down the captain's heart earlier that morning was gone. He was feeling his confidence renewed, and twirled Ginger around and around, taking great strides that fortunately the tall, leggy redhead was able to keep up with. She laughed and smiled and hung on tight as he spun her around with great gusto. He may not have been the waltz man the Professor was, but he certainly knew how to take the lead.

"Weeee…" she squealed with delight as another spin lifted her right off her feet.

The Professor had gallantly offered his hand out to Mary Ann and they too had taken to the dance floor. They talked while they danced. He complimented her earrings. She expressed her greatest sympathies and care over his family. Then the subject of his gifted ascot came up, and Mary Ann remarked how it looked like the very same one he had worn when all the men had tried to help her during the dreaded Horace Higgenbotham debacle.

"Now, who exactly were you supposed to be? Was it... Cary Grant… or perhaps Rex Harrison?" she asked with a teasing little smile.

"Hmmm… questioning my acting abilities, are we? Be careful…" he said with a grin, then quickly dipped her backwards and continued, "…Mary Ann, Mary Ann, Mary Ann."

They both broke into laughter as he pulled her back up and expertly twirled her around to the music.

When the second track of the record began to play, Mr. Howell rose from his seated position. "Lovey dear, I do believe they are playing our song," said the charming millionaire.

His elegant wife allowed her husband to take her gloved hand and lead her out to what sufficed as their dance floor. It was nothing like the grand ballrooms they had so often glided across in the past, but they danced as if it were. Glistening stars now took the place of crystal chandeliers and leafy jungle shrubbery and palm trees stood where fine wall finishings and brocade curtains would have been. Yet, they always managed to transcend their surroundings. When they danced, it was as if they were in a world of their own. They were Mr. and Mrs. Thurston Howell the Third, and nothing, not even a primitive locale, could change that.

They didn't often talk while dancing, but the millionaire could not let any more time pass by without complimenting his beloved companion.

"You look absolutely ravishing this evening my dear," Thurston Howell said to his wife. Looking at her glistening tiara, he added, "just as resplendent as the day you were crowned Queen of the Prune Bowl Parade."

Mrs. Howell looked back at her husband, with her mouth open with surprise until he interjected, "that is, _Pitted_ Prune, of course."

Her smile was full and delighted. His grin was obvious.

Gilligan chose to remain where he was in order to finish off the special pie Mary Ann had made for him. As he sat on the edge of the table, savoring each mouthful, he looked at his fellow castaways. The Skipper was bounding across the dance floor. He was standing straight and tall, with a grand smile on his face. Now there was his friend as he had always known him - commanding and confident once again. Ginger Grant, the movie star, was positively radiant with her shimmering dress and glittering diamond necklace. She was just as gleaming and glamorous as she had ever been in all her pictures back home. The Howells were moving with all the grace and elegance they would have displayed at the classiest of parties with their high society friends. Gilligan reflected on how amazing it was to know a famous actress and real, live millionaires. Then he looked over and also saw the Professor laughing heartily and Mary Ann, happy and giggling. They had not been mentioned by the radio announcer that morning. To the listening audience, they were just the rest of the passengers who did not merit special mention as would an extremely wealthy couple and a Hollywood starlet. But they most certainly had equal billing there on the island, and in his heart.

The song had come to an end and the castaways had gathered around a large clam shell containing the Professor's latest creation - a "celebratory soap bubble solution" as he called it, put together to enhance the evening's festivities. He had also fashioned small bamboo wands for each of them to use, and they were all dipping them in the mixture and then blowing bubbles. Soon delicate, glistening little orbs were everywhere. They filled the air and then popped like little tiny, silent firecrackers as they ascended into the night sky.

"Gilligan!" shouted the Skipper. "Come on over and join us, Little Buddy!" he said, waving a beckoning arm.

"Be right there, Skipper!" Gilligan called back.

As he looked at all of his friends with great love, watching their smiles and hearing their laughter, a little grin crossed Gilligan's face. Secretly he decided to celebrate another anniversary that night. To him, September 26, 1964 would always be, not the day that that their lives came to a halt because of a shipwreck, but the day that a family would form that would bring joy and happiness to them all - and perhaps others somehow - for many, many years to come.

Just before he leapt off the table and went to join his friends, a smiled radiated outward from deep inside his heart and he whispered, "Happy anniversary everyone."

THE END

(Epilogue to follow…)


	11. Chapter 11

EPILOGUE:

The castaways decided that evening to follow a similar tradition, should the need arise, each year, in order to make the best of things until they were rescued. Even though the days ahead proved to be what could be described as an "uphill climb" for them all, the Skipper and Gilligan continued to be hardworking and diligent, always doing their very best to keep the others comfortable in what they sometimes jokingly referred to as their "tropic island nest."

They did not have many of the things they may have taken for granted before they were shipwrecked, but they managed somehow. They had no phones, yet they could communicate with each other. They had no lights, but the sun brightened their days, and the large quantity of tiki torches they created out of various island resources lit their way at night. Obviously motor cars were not available, but they even were able to fashion a pedal-powered bamboo vehicle to get them around. Certainly they had no luxuries, but they always did have the necessities. Their library was limited on the island, so often they would take turns relating plots from the books they had read. When the one of the group retold, in quite amazing detail, the story of _Robinson Crusoe_, they all remarked how much that primitive setting mirrored theirs.

Had anyone been watching these seven stranded castaways – Gilligan, the Skipper, the millionaire and his wife, the movie star, the Professor and Mary Ann – muddle through each passing week, they surely would have smiled as their viewed their amusing interactions during what would prove to be one crazy adventure after another. They were able to endure with a certain lightheartedness of spirit, no matter what occurred.

So grateful were the other castaways to the first mate for his anniversary suggestion which ended up opening their eyes to the value of the time they had together that it was decided, with great affection, to dub their temporary home - that tiny tropical piece of land sitting amidst the vast and deep blue sea - "Gilligan's Island."

HAPPY 50th ANNIVERSARY!

…

_**Author's Note:**__**Thank you for all your kind reviews and remarks, and for being such amiable guests at this anniversary celebration. But what is a party without a few games? I thought a little Gilligan's Island scavenger hunt of sorts might be appropriate. So, embedded in this tale are references to each of the 98 episodes of this beloved and iconic sitcom. Most are quite obvious, but a few are as subtle as a quote or prop reference, just to add an element of challenge for all you Gilligan's Island connoisseurs out there. Additionally, weaved into the story, there are two or more references to the real lives or other professional performances of each of the cast members (again, some obvious, and others quite subtle), as well as an honorable mention and nod to the creator, one of directors, and one of the guest stars. Did you catch them all? I'm sure you did! Hope you had fun. Best wishes to all!**_


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